


Getting It Right

by SPowell



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, College/University, First Time, Frotting, Homophobia, M/M, Miscommunication, Modern Setting, artist!Merlin, closeted!Arthur, flatmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-21
Updated: 2012-11-21
Packaged: 2017-11-19 05:21:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/569566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPowell/pseuds/SPowell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for uni_Merlin prompt #76<br/>Eight people sharing a uni-flat. Merlin and Gwaine are such good friends, Arthur misunderstands their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting It Right

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Speculation about homophobia that is unfounded. Excessive Christmas fluff. 
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters herein belong to BBC and Shine. I make no profit off this endeavor.

“Come on, Gwaine, put your back into it, would you?” Merlin holds the bedframe steady as his best mate pushes as hard as he can, unable to keep the whole thing from knocking repeatedly into the wall.

“We’re going to have to spackle and re-paint after this,” Merlin says, his breath hitching with effort.

“A-Almost,” Gwaine growls with a final push. “Yes!” The trundle snaps into place.

Merlin lets out a heart-felt rush of air before sagging back against the corner of the bed. “Brilliant!”

A noise from outside the door catches Merlin’s attention. “I’ll bet that’s one of the new flat mates moving in.” He glances at Gwaine, who has flung himself face-down onto the mattress of the double bed. “Hey, don’t sweat on my bed, pig!”

Gwaine hoists himself up, listening to doors shutting and the sound of boxes being dropped to the floor. “Maybe we should go offer to help, yeah?” he mutters, before flopping back down on the bed.

“You’re in no condition,” Merlin points out. “But we did get the job done.”

“I don’t see why I have to sleep on the trundle,” Gwaine complains, watching Merlin cross to his laptop and turn on some music. MGMT _Indie Rokkers_. “Trundles are for little kids.”

Merlin sits down next to him, taking a strand of his friend’s overly long brown hair and twisting it around his finger. “Perfect for you, then.”  He considers Gwaine’s roguishly handsome features a moment more. “Too bad you’re my best mate and a pig. Otherwise I just might fall for you.” He leans down and kisses the top of the rumpled head and jumps up from the bed.

“God help the man you really fall for, Emrys. You have entirely too much energy,” Gwaine grumbles, pulling off his sweat-stained shirt and tossing it onto the floor before rolling over and closing his eyes. Merlin just laughs and opens the door. The spacious living area that makes up the middle of the four-bedroom uni-flat is empty, but several boxes sit outside the previously unoccupied room. These two are the last of the roommates to move in before classes start, and Merlin is beyond curious to meet them.

“Hello?” he calls out. A blond head pokes out from the room, ear buds dangling from his ears, followed by a fit body in a jersey and shorts. Merlin’s heart sinks a bit. He knows the type: pompous footie player playboy with a dash of insufferable prat. Why couldn’t he be a geeky nerd online game-player dork? Once the guy takes out his ear buds, Merlin extends a hand. “I’m Merlin,” he says pleasantly, because he was raised to have manners. “Need some help?”

The blond quickly shakes his hand, his eyes sweeping over Merlin’s sweaty, rumpled form and glancing into the open door where Gwaine lays limp and shirtless on the bed.

“No—“ he says just as Morgana sweeps into the room. “Arthur!” She zeroes in on the newcomer and envelopes him in a huge hug. “I thought for a while you weren’t going to make it before classes start.”

“I had some trouble with Father before leaving, but I’m here.” Arthur’s voice is both cultured, and, well, …sensual. Merlin immediately thinks of a smooth whiskey. Arthur seems to be avoiding Merlin’s eyes, although Merlin can’t imagine why unless Arthur thinks he’s just too good for him. He’s had plenty experience with Arthur’s type: all of it negative.

“Arthur, this is Merlin; Merlin, my cousin Arthur,” Morgana makes the introductions. Merlin thinks the two couldn’t possibly look any different—Morgana with her porcelain skin, sparkling green eyes, and beautiful smile, and Arthur, although equally beautiful, with his flaxen hair, sapphire eyes, and patrician features.

“Who’s my roomie?” Arthur asks Morgana after properly greeting Merlin.

“Sorry, I don’t know. We had to put a notice on the bulletin board. As it is, Gwen and I share a room, Merlin and Gwaine share another, and Lance and Leon the third.”

Arthur shrugs. “Okay, whatever. It’s not like I’m going to be spending that much time in it anyway. I’m loaded down with courses.”

“You wouldn’t be if you only went for what you wanted rather than piling what Uncle wants you to take on top of it,” Morgana points out.

Merlin’s phone buzzes, and he fishes it out of his pocket. When he sees the message, he smiles broadly. “I have the answer to the roommate question,” he says. “A friend of mine is going to be here shortly. Name’s Will.” Merlin bends down and lifts a box up, shouldering past Arthur and into his room, which is typically furnished with twin beds, two tall chests of drawers, and two compact desks. Merlin’s and Gwaine’s room has the double bed that belonged to Merlin’s grandmother because Merlin stubbornly refuses to part with it. They’d dumped the original twin beds in storage. He privately grins at the fact that Will— _flamboyantly gay Will_ —will be Arthur’s room-mate.

Merlin sets the box on the floor, almost losing hold of it, and watches as books spill out from the top. _Of Mice and Men, David Copperfield, Slaughterhouse Five, The Deflowering of Jonathan Morris---_ wait a minute, _what the fuck?_ Merlin picks the last book up and has just begun perusing it when it is abruptly snatched from his hands.

“That's not mine. Er, thanks for the help, but I’ve got it from here,” Arthur says as he shoves the book back into the box and stands with hands-on-hips until Merlin has left the room. Merlin shrugs, thinking if Arthur’s girlfriend has a kink for gay porn, well, he certainly doesn’t care. Gwen certainly reads enough of it.

Later that day, after Merlin has gone out for coffee and run some errands, he returns to find Will there unloading the last of his things. The two hug and squeal a little bit (Will more than Merlin) and sit on the horrible couch from a jumble sale with some tea to catch up on things.

“This is the most uncomfortable bloody couch I’ve ever sat my delectable ass on!” Will exclaims, trying to find a place on it that isn’t lumpy, hard, or caved-in and failing miserably.

“I know. It’s one of Gwen’s _finds_. She was so excited about getting it for seven pounds, none of us could say anything negative about it.”

“Well, I’m not afraid to tell her it’s shite,” Will states disgustedly, tugging the hem of his silk shirt and making a face.

“Here’s your chance,” Merlin says as Gwen practically falls into the flat, her arms loaded with groceries. Merlin jumps up and catches two bags before they hit the floor.

“Oh, thanks, Merlin, gosh! I thought I could carry all these, but I guess I was wrong! Oh!” She stops when she sees Will. “Hello! You must be our new flat mate! I mean, the one besides Arthur, but we’ve already met him, so he’s not as new as you are, even though it was only earlier today when he moved in.” She stops, biting her lip and blushing.

Will stands and takes the rest of the groceries from her, giving her a smile.

“Oh, aren’t you sweet!” Gwen gushes. “I’m so glad to have you here, especially since you’re a friend of Merlin’s! And I love that shirt! Not everyone can pull off that shade of pink.”

“Will was just admiring the couch you got at the jumble sale,” Merlin tells her, coming back from the small kitchen. He glances at Will, his eyes twinkling. “What was it you said about it?”

“Er…” Will looks from Merlin’s mischievous smile to Gwen’s wide, sincere gaze. “J-just what a…terrific value it was!”

Gwen smiles brightly, twisting one of her spirals of brown hair around her index finger. “Wasn’t it, though? Can you imagine? Only seven pounds! I couldn’t believe it. I called Gwaine and Merlin immediately to come get it and bring it here.”

Merlin turns so only Will can see him laughing, and Will has to keep smiling until Gwen leaves the room.

“I see what you mean,” he admits when she is out of hearing range. “It would be a bit like kicking a puppy, wouldn’t it? Besides, she has good taste in clothes.”

“Yeah,” Merlin grins. “So, have you met your roomie yet? A bit of a ponce, I think.”

“Actually, yeah.” Will starts unloading the groceries. “He helped me carry the rest of my stuff in. He seemed okay to me. Awfully cute.”

“If you like that type,” Merlin sniffs. “Well, good. You’re the one who has to bunk with him, mate. He’s Morgana’s cousin, by the way. Have you met her?”

“Tall, beautiful, kind of frightening?”

“That’s her.”

“She makes me glad I’m gay,” Will says. “By the way, you think that’s going to be a problem with Arthur? He’s probably straight.”

“I don’t know,” Merlin shrugs, but his eyes are mischievous. “I guess if it is, he can just move out, can’t he.”

Each bedroom in the flat has its own small bathroom, and Gwaine comes out of his and Merlin’s with a towel wrapped low around his waist.

“Holy shit,” Will says under his breath, staring appreciatively at Gwaine’s backside which is plainly visible beneath the damp towel.

“That’s just Gwaine,” Merlin informs him, unfazed.

Will turns disbelieving eyes to him. “The guy you _sleep_ with?”

“There’s a bed that pushes up under mine. A trundle,” Merlin corrects. “Gwaine is straight, so don’t get any ideas.”

Will shakes his head. “One of these days they’re going to revoke your membership to the ILGA, mate. Are you crazy? Why haven’t you converted him?”

Merlin wrinkles his nose. “Even if that were _possible,_ it’d be like sleeping with my brother or something.”

Will shakes his head again while making cow-eyes at the door that Gwaine disappeared behind. “Damn.”

~~~~O~~~~O~~~~O~~~~

 

A week passes with all the craziness of new classes, buying used books or borrowing them, moaning over syllabi, and generally just getting used to a regular schedule again after a summer off. Leon and Lance fight for the bathroom every weekday morning, as both have an eight AM class. The fourth time this happens and Leon is left standing in his boxers pounding on the bathroom door after Lance has beaten him to it, Morgana appears out of her bedroom in her sky blue negligee, her matching sleep mask pushed up on her head.

“For God’s sake, come use our bathroom and stop that noise!” she shouts, throwing her feathered slipper at Leon’s head.

Leon’s mouth falls open as he ducks the slipper, his eyes raking over Morgana’s voluptuous self. “I-I couldn’t possibly use the, uh, the shower and toile—stuff you use,” he stammers, his neck turning red.

“Why ever not?” Morgana plants her hands on her hips, which causes the silk to ride up her thigh, and Leon has to hold back a gasp. “Oh, for pity’s sake, Leon, use the bathroom! Neither Gwen nor I need it for another hour, and all the others are occupied. You have our blessing.” She turns on her heel and walks back in her bedroom, slamming the door. A second later, her head pops out again. “And don’t leave the seat up!” She slams the door again.

“Better listen to her, mate,” Arthur tells him on his way into his bathroom. “She means business.”

Leon nods once, picks up the frilly slipper, clutching it to his chest, and heads that way, turning bright pink when he spots the pastel towels on the rack and the box of tampons on the back of the commode.

Arthur shakes his head in amusement. He’s never met a man immune to his cousin’s considerable charms. A straight man, anyway. That thought brings back the memory of what he’d heard the first day when he’d moved in—Merlin and Gwaine having sex, from the sound of it. He’d frozen in place when he’d heard the bed thunking rhythmically against the wall and Merlin encouraging Gwaine to put his back into it. And Gwaine had actually _growled._ Arthur had immediately fumbled in his backpack for his ear buds and iPod, turning the volume up. Then Merlin had appeared from the bedroom, sweaty and disheveled, and Arthur had thought he’d never seen anyone so sexy. He’d immediately lost all train of thought, along with the ability to speak in full sentences. Thank God Morgana had arrived just then.

Of course, Merlin is just the type Arthur secretly loves—tall and rail thin, dark-headed and blue-eyed. To top it off, Arthur’s roommate is gay, too. Isn’t it just his luck to have his preferred sexuality stuck in his face every day?

But even if Arthur dared, evidently Merlin and Gwaine are an established couple because they brought their own bed into the place, and when they sit on the horribly lumpy excuse for a sofa in the evenings watching telly, they’re practically glued together. Sometimes he’s seen Merlin wear a shirt that Gwaine had been in a few days before, and Arthur has often witnessed them doing each other’s laundry.

Not that Arthur cares. It’s sweet, really; just the type of relationship he’d like to have one day. If he ever manages to come out of the closet. Which he probably won’t. It’s also probably for the best.  If Merlin were free, he would be a terrible temptation for Arthur.

He’s tired this morning, mainly because he stayed up late reading _The Deflowering of Jonathan Morris._ He is embarrassed to be reading the book, but he can’t put it down. No wonder it's been on the best seller list for fifteen straight weeks.

He showers and gets ready for class, grabbing some orange juice from the fridge just in time to witness Merlin and Gwaine grappling for the bathroom before just deciding to share it. Arthur’s eyes briefly meet Merlin’s, and the man smiles at him—a grin that is impossibly charming and guileless. Arthur manages to turn his lips up and give a stilted nod before ducking his head. He doesn’t understand why he feels so stupid around him. He is harmless enough, with his (yummy) reedy figure and (shining) blue eyes. Arthur blinks, annoyed with himself, and heads out of the flat to class.

Merlin stands in front of the mirror shaving. He has the darkest beard and has to work hard at keeping it at bay. Gwaine stands behind the shower curtain with green and blue fish all over it, washing and singing off key.

“How do I sound, mate?” he asks over the rush of the water, impishly sticking his wet face around the curtain and meeting Merlin’s eyes in the mirror.

“Don’t quit your day job,” Merlin advises, running the razor up his neck and over his chin. Gwaine disappears behind the curtain with a huff and continues singing, barely managing to hit a high note in Mika’s “Grace Kelly.”

“Watch it!” Merlin shouts. “Don’t shatter the mirror ‘til I’m finished shaving!”

A splash of water hits Merlin in the back of the head, and he grins.

***

Later, after his third class of the day, Merlin drags himself into the flat, slips off his shoes and socks, throws his backpack in the general vicinity of the bedroom, and flops down on the mangy couch with a groan.

“Bad day?” Gwen asks, appearing from the kitchen with two Cokes in her hand. She gives one to Merlin, and he pops the lid with a shadow of his usual grin.

“My art history class is going to kill me,” he groans pitifully. “The professor hates me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin, no one could hate you.” Gwen ruffles his hair and drinks her Coke, her eyes fixed on her favorite soap opera.

“Why do you watch this?” Merlin asks. “They just keep switching partners over and over again.”

“Some gay man you are,” Gwen says. “You’re supposed to like soaps. Besides, there’s a gay couple on this one. Ian and Monty.”

“And let me guess…” Merlin says, lying back on the couch and trying to avoid the large lump in the middle, “they’re the only monogamous couple on there because there’s no other gay people to swap around with.”

Gwen frowns and doesn’t answer.

“Anybody else here?” Merlin asks after a while.

“Just Arthur, and he’s studying. Everyone else has late classes on Thursdays. What do you want to do about dinner? Shall one of us cook?”

“That means shall _I_ cook, because everyone knows you can’t.”

“I can, too!” Gwen protests, grabbing one of Merlin’s bare toes and popping it. “I can make sweets, anyway.”

“Ouch, Gwen! Jesus!” Merlin retracts his foot and rubs his toes.

“Maybe Arthur can,” Gwen speculates just as Arthur’s door opens.

“Maybe Arthur can what?” he asks, rubbing his eyes. Merlin thinks rumpled and tired is a good look on him.

“Cook,” Gwen says. “Merlin and I are getting hungry. We could order out, of course, but that’s pretty expensive, plus there’s all the groceries I bought…well, not just me, all of us chipped in, but you know what I’m saying. It’s a shame to let them go to waste.”

Arthur’s and Merlin’s eyes meet for a moment in mutual commiseration over Gwen’s babbling before Arthur looks away. Merlin wonders why he does that so much. Is he shy? Does he have Asperger’s Syndrome? Or is he really the prat Merlin pinned him to be the first day he met him? After all, in spite of Merlin’s attempts to be friendly, the man seems to avoid him.

“I can cook some,” Arthur says, heading for the kitchen. “I’ll see what I can rustle up.”

“Are you sure you haven’t had a chef cooking for you your whole life?” Merlin asks, sauntering toward the kitchen. He figures if Arthur doesn’t want to be friends, Merlin might as well have some fun goading him.

“Who do you think taught me how to cook, _Mer_ lin?” Arthur says, and the way he says his name gives Merlin an unexpected charge below the belt. He stops mid-step, a little stunned.

Gwaine charges into the apartment, throwing his jacket onto the coat rack and dropping his back pack in the middle of the floor.

“Pick that up, slob!” Gwen demands. “Just because your boyfriend puts up with you, doesn’t mean we will.”

Merlin rolls his eyes. Gwen’s always calling them boyfriends, and they’ve learned to ignore it.

Gwaine grins, giving Gwen a kiss on the mouth.

“Gwaine, you rogue!” Gwen smacks him on the arm, but it’s obvious by her blush that she’s pleased. Gwaine proceeds to saunter into the kitchen and kiss Merlin on the cheek.

“Hi, honey, I’m home,” Gwaine winks at him.

Merlin grins and shakes his head. “Why are you home early?”

Gwaine pulls a beer out of the refrigerator and cracks it open. “Professor didn’t show up. We waited around a good half hour before finally leaving.” He gulps down several pulls of beer and looks at Arthur. “What’re you making?”

“I thought maybe vegetable lasagna,” Arthur says, taking various ingredients out of the cabinet.

“Oi, that sounds so much better than the take-out we normally have!” Gwaine enthuses, his stomach growling on cue.

Gwen appears, pushing Gwaine out of the way. “Want me to help chop the veggies?”

Arthur hands her a cutting board and knife along with carrots, zucchini, and onions.

Gwaine belches and heads for the living room, detouring around the couch and throwing himself on the floor in front of the television. Merlin finds himself watching Arthur put the noodles on to boil, admiring his shoulders rippling underneath his tight T-shirt as he works. Blinking rapidly, Merlin moves away and goes to his bedroom to work on a paper.

Wonderful smells draw everyone into the kitchen forty minutes later, where the bar is too small to fit more than three diners around it. So Morgana, who arrived within minutes of Lance, Leon, and Will, spreads a blanket over the floor, and they have a picnic.

“This is fucking delicious,” Gwaine says between bites. “Will you marry me?”

Arthur blushes, and looks at Merlin from beneath his lashes, wondering if Gwaine’s comment made him jealous. Merlin seems unperturbed, however, and Arthur turns his attention to the others. He wonders if Morgana notices Leon looking besottedly at her throughout the meal. He isn’t exactly her type, and Arthur finds himself feeling sorry for him; Morgana will shred him to pieces.

Will accidently knocks over his drink, and Lance immediately offers a napkin before jumping up to get a towel. The guy is so handsome and nice and helpful, Arthur isn’t really sure if he likes him or not. Who’s that perfect? Just the fact that Lance _is_ perfect makes Arthur suspect that he’s really a serial killer or a pedophile or something. Isn’t that the way it usually goes? It’s those you least suspect that you normally see in the paper for committing some horrendous crime. He narrows his eyes at Lance, wondering which he is. There aren’t any children around, so it’s hard to test his theory. Lance catches Arthur staring at him, and smiles. Caught off guard, Arthur tentatively smiles back. _Damn._

His eyes move to Will, who has his pinkie curled as he forks lasagna into his mouth. _Is he wearing lip gloss? And glitter?_ Sometimes he hears Will talking in his sleep, sounding suspiciously like Lauren Bacall. It gives Arthur the creeps.

Morgana sits silently watching more than eating and looking highly amused. Arthur has been expecting a lecture of some sort from his cousin, but has managed to avoid it until late that night when he’s sequestered in his room with piles of homework. Damn that roommate of his-- he’s worse than a cat in heat. He’s out again on yet another date, and that not only reminds Arthur that Will’s better at being a gay man than Arthur is, despite the fact that he’s nowhere close to as good looking or intelligent as Arthur. It also leaves Arthur open to Morgana’s onslaught, no matter how well-meaning.

“There you are, Arthur,” Morgana says, coming into his room and flopping down on the bed.

“Where else would I be, Morgana?” Arthur says, turning a page of _Adam Bede_ and thinking he’d like to punch the protagonist in the nose.

“Did you finish _The Deflowering of Jonathan Morris_? Because I really want to read it.”

Arthur’s eyes fly from the page he’s on and meet Morgana’s feline gaze. He swears he wouldn’t be surprised to one day find her pupils thin slits surrounded by a sea of green.

“Morgana, have you been snooping?”

“A little,” she shrugs. “For heaven’s sake, Arthur, you keep this invisible shield around you, making sure no one can get in. It’s bad enough that you exhaust yourself by taking a full load of business classes to please Uther and then topping them off with literature classes to please yourself…this is the second year running, and you’re burning yourself out. I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t,” Arthur says shortly, pinning his eyes back on his book. Morgana’s hand shoots out, knocking the book to the floor.

“And don’t _bullshit me_ , Arthur Pendragon!  Uther doesn’t make you miserable, you make _yourself_ miserable! When are you going to stand up to him? When are you going to come out of the _fucking closet_ and live your life?” She spends several uncomfortable seconds trying to stare him down before exiting the room with a flounce and a slam of the door.

~~~O~~~O~~~

Merlin is curled up next to Gwaine on the sagging end of the couch. This is less out of affection for Gwaine and more to get away from the lump in the center that gets harder every day. Lucky for him, there have never been a lot of personal boundaries when it comes to Gwaine. As Morgana exits Arthur’s room, slamming the door, he looks away from the television.

“What’s wrong?” Merlin asks her.

“My cousin is an insufferable git,” Morgana says, pulling a bottle of brandy out of the cupboard and pouring a glass. Merlin notices it’s one of his Power Puff Girl jelly jar glasses he collected one year from a fast food restaurant. This one shows Blossom striking an attack pose.

“Is this news to you?” He asks, trying to get comfortable with his head on Gwaine’s leg and his butt just north of the lump. Gwaine only grunts and continues drinking his beer and watching a reality show.

“No, of course not, but there’s always that hope that one day he’ll be a changed man.” She sags into the floral print chair that someone brought from home (he thinks Gwen). It’s threadbare and not any more comfortable than the couch. Merlin thinks it feels a bit like wood covered by fabric with a bit of stuffing here and there. And only a bit.

“I haven’t exactly gotten an opportunity to get to know him,” Merlin admits, not adding that it’s because Arthur won’t give him the opportunity. “What’s his problem, exactly?”

Morgana sighs and opens her mouth, but as though Athur’s got radar telling him when his secrets are about to spill from another’s lips, he comes out of the bedroom. He wanders into the living area, not saying anything, but sits at Morgana’s feet and makes a show of watching television. His arm presses against Morgana’s leg, and Merlin catches sight of the warm smile that twitches about her mouth. A moment later, she is watching telly, too, and her fingers are threading through Arthur’s hair.

It is at this moment that a real desire ignites in Merlin to get to know Arthur Pendragon. It fascinates him that the man could seem such an arrogant prat, yet be willing to cook a delicious meal for everyone and able to hold a place so dear in the dragon lady’s heart. (This is what he calls Morgana in his most secret thoughts. He wouldn’t dare say it aloud.) He knows how difficult it is to break her veneer, and he also knows that very few people are really close to her. He can’t say that he’s one of them, although they’ve always enjoyed a fairly comfortable friendship. Gwen comes closest to being anything like a best mate to Morgana, and Merlin has still never seen her touch Gwen as she is now touching Arthur. And he sincerely doubts that Arthur is aware of the fact that moment by moment he is relaxing against Morgana, leaning into her stroking like a cat, his head eventually coming to rest against her thigh. Merlin can almost physically see the tension run out of him, and he wonders how often he walks around keeping himself in check.

Merlin knows that he is endowed with the ability to gradually worm his way into people’s lives and sometimes hearts if he so chooses. He rarely has to, as people always seem to gravitate toward him like, well, as Gwaine is fond of saying, flies to shit. But when he really wants to know someone, he _will_ know that person, come hell or high water. And suddenly Merlyn Emrys very much wants to know Arthur Pendragon.

He begins this quest by making sure he always sits by Arthur when they all go down to the local pub. This doesn’t happen very often, as the group all have such varying schedules, plus there’s always a lot of studying to be done. But every so often it becomes evident by the amount of snarking going on in the flat that there’s a need for an outlet. A liquid, vaporous, alcoholic outlet. This usually happens on a Saturday night about once a month. Elyan and Freya join them this time, and Gwaine sits on the other side of Merlin. Merlin’s pretty sure he’s playing footsie with Freya under the table, and by the look on her face, she’s enjoying it.

Merlin tries to engage Arthur in conversation, but the man keeps darting glances at Gwaine and Freya before settling back on Merlin again. Merlin begins to wonder if Arthur has a thing for Freya, because he seems to get angrier at Gwaine as the night progresses.

“So, Arthur,” Merlin tries again, “if your girlfriend doesn’t want her book back anytime soon, can I have a look at it?”

“Girlfriend?” Arthur darts his eyes away from the giggling Freya to Merlin. “What book?”

“Um, _The Deflowering of Jonathan Morris_. I saw it that day you moved in, remember? I figure you have a girl who left it with you—a lot of girls think gay romances are hot.”

“Oh, that. Yeah. A girl left it.”

“So can I borrow it then?”

Arthur drags his eyes to Merlin’s and seems to really look at him this time. “You want to read that book?”

“Yeah. It’s all the talk.”

“Oh, that’s a wonderful book!” Gwen squeals from across the table, having obviously caught wind of the conversation. She leans across a panting, red-faced Freya and says, “It is sooo sexy! Jonathan Morris is to _die for!_ He’s so _soulful_. You can just tell his heart’s locked up with all these _secrets_!”

“I thought he was just horny,” Gwen’s brother Elyan says, taking a handful of peanuts from a bowl.

“Oh, no! It’s so much more than that! Isn’t it, Freya?” Gwen elbows Freya in the ribs. “You’ve read it, right? ”

Freya’s mouth drops open, her eyes glued to Gwaine’s.

“I think I’m going to go out for a smoke,” Gwaine says suddenly. “Care to join me, Frey?”

Freya swallows, nods, and stands up, a little wobbly. She follows Gwaine outside, Merlin’s pretty sure, but he’s not really paying attention. Gwen’s waxing eloquent on _The Deflowering of Jonathan Morris_ , describing a few scenes in detail.

Merlin runs his finger over the rim of his glass, watching Arthur and thinking about how long it’s been since he’s had a good shag. He didn’t miss the glare Arthur sent Gwaine’s way when he disappeared outside with Freya. Merlin thinks he’d give a whole lot to know what’s going on in the handsome blond’s mind.

What Arthur is thinking is how in the hell Gwaine has the balls to take that Freya girl outside after obviously attempting to get her off at the table with his _foot_ , for fuck’s sake! And all under his _boyfriend’s nose_! And Merlin has to be the most _obtuse_ , dimwitted sort to sit there oblivious to the whole thing! Unless…unless they have one of those weird, open relationships, and Merlin really doesn’t mind that his boyfriend fucks girls… He glances again at Merlin, who has the prettiest mouth, and the highest, sharpest, most delectable cheekbones. He really wants to run his finger over one, and he must be drunk, because that’s really a stupid idea, although there’s this place on Merlin’s neck where Arthur knows his lips would fit perfectly... And Gwen keeps talking about rimming. Did she really just say something about bottoming from the top?

Arthur’s head is spinning from too much drink. He’s hit that moment where his teeth are now numb. Blinking, he tells everyone that he thinks he’ll go back to the flat.

Wobbling, he makes it to the door before a hand is on his arm, guiding him through it and out into the cool night air. Arthur doesn’t even have to look to see who it is—he knows it’s Merlin by the sparks flying through his veins at the contact. So the guy’s sweet, too. Oblivious and sweet. Arthur wants to say, _hey, you know your boyfriend’s probably off fucking that girl, right?_ But he doesn’t. He also doesn’t say, _and you know that I’m gay and want to lay you down in the grass over there and fuck you senseless?_ Rather, he contains his drunken thoughts and saves up the feel of Merlin next to him, touching him, to enjoy at a more sober moment.

They cross the street and walk toward the university, the intermittent street lights illuminating their way. Laughing, chatting students sit on benches or make their way to their cars around them, but Arthur feels cocooned. By the time they arrive, Merlin’s arm is around Arthur’s waist and Arthur is leaning on him heavily. His head is swimming. Why in the fuck did he drink so much? He thinks it has something to do with all the papers he needs to write over the weekend and the enormous jumble of facts and figures vying for room in his head. They stumble up the stairs and into the flat, Merlin helping Arthur get into his room and onto the bed. Arthur feels Merlin taking off his shoes and socks, then removing his belt. For a moment he pretends it is something more than merely a man helping a drunken flat mate into bed, and is surprised to feel himself hardening, despite all the alcohol he’s consumed. He reaches down and stills Merlin’s hands, not wanting him to see, and Merlin backs off. The shrill ringing of Arthur’s cell phone in his pocket makes him jerk.

Arthur fumbles it out and peers drunkenly at the screen. “Shit! It’sh my father. He’ll be able to tell I’m drunk!” Arthur groans out in an inebriated slur of words.

“Better not to answer it, then,” Merlin says.

“He’ll be furious.”

“Want me to answer?” Merlin offers, and Arthur actually considers it. But that would probably land him in more of a mess than ignoring the call.

“No, s’okay. Thanks Merrr-lin for helping me back.” Arthur tries to enunciate, but it’s difficult. “You can just leave me to shleep. Sle-ep.”

Arthur thinks one of the Merlins he now sees before him grins before he heads out of the room. He hears the front door close, and Arthur watches the room spin before squeezing his eyes shut. He’s dropping off to sleep when he hears voices in the living area. Female giggling. Wondering if the others are back, he pulls himself off the bed and staggers to his door, opening it wide. Gwaine and Freya stand by the red couch snogging shamelessly. Gwaine’s got his hands down her pants. _Fuck, just ten or fifteen minutes earlier, and Merlin would’ve caught them. Gwaine’s a cheeky bugger! Fucking Gwaine. He oughta plant his fist right in that good-looking face, that’s what he oughta do!_ Arthur thinks. But he’s barely able to stand on his own, so instead, Arthur slams his bedroom door, hoping to ruin the mood. He doesn’t like to think that Gwaine would cheat on Merlin, who reminds Arthur of a kitten or something equally innocent and cuddly. Although kittens aren’t exactly sexy, and Merlin is definitely sexy. All that dark, rumpled hair…those clear blue eyes…long legs…charming smile.

 _What the hell?_ Arthur smacks himself in the head and then moans woefully at the pain this causes him before dropping onto the mattress and sinking into a deep, dreamless sleep.

~~~O~~~O~~~O~~~O~~~

Merlin hears Arthur vomiting the next morning and briefly checks to make sure he’s in his bathroom and not spewing it all over his bedroom floor. Will has spent the night somewhere else—most likely with his twink of the week.

Merlin heads into the kitchen and roots around the refrigerator, one ear registering that the toilet has flushed and the sink is running. He pulls out some eggs, bread, and orange juice, and begins to make breakfast. He hears the shower in Arthur’s bathroom come on and takes some pain medication out of the cabinet, knowing Arthur is going to need some. Arthur certainly was smashed the night before. With a sudden flush to his cheeks, he remembers the way Arthur had pushed Merlin’s hands away when he’d tried to help him out of his pants and wonders if he thinks Merlin would try something with him. A sound from behind him makes Merlin turn around, and he just manages to hold in a gasp at the sight of Arthur dripping from the shower, six pack gleaming, towel barely hanging on to his narrow waist, and the most alluring little gold ring twinkling from his right nipple.

Fortunately Arthur isn’t paying him much mind as Merlin gawks his fill, particularly of Arthur’s delicious bum as he bends to pull the cranberry juice from the refrigerator. When Arthur’s towel slips, it is all Merlin can do to avert his gaze. He swallows thickly and manages to catch the toast as it pops out and tries to sail across the room. Arthur’s attention is caught by the unexpected act, and Merlin says, “One of Gwen’s bargains.”

Arthur nods and goes back to rummaging for food that he won’t be likely to vomit up again. Merlin pushes the two pain relievers his way, and Arthur gives him a wan smile of gratitude before swallowing them dry. He pours a glass of orange juice and Merlin valiantly tries not to stare at the nipple ring while he drinks it down.

 _That is the fucking sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,_ he thinks weakly. Also, _Arthur certainly doesn’t act like a homophobe, prancing around in front of me like that._ He’s extremely relieved when Lance joins them in the kitchen.

“What’re you doing up so early?” Merlin asks Lance, desperate for something else to think about other than what the little gold ring might feel like against his tongue. He needs to adjust himself badly.

“It’s eleven o’clock,” Lance points out. “And I got a job cleaning Saint Mary’s tonight after the service. I’ve got to get some school work out of the way.”

As if his words light a fire under him, Arthur jerks and heads back to his room. “Not a very friendly chap, is he?” Lance comments.

“He’s okay,” Merlin murmurs around his toast. “At least, not as bad as I thought initially.”

Leon appears, sleepy-eyed and bedraggled. He pulls a yogurt from the refrigerator and fishes around in the drawer for a spoon.

“Where in the hell are all the spoons?” he grumbles, pushing cutlery around.

“I think I saw about five in my room. Gwaine never brings his dirty dishes in,” Merlin tells him.

“Fuck,” Leon says before tipping the yogurt cup to his mouth and sucking out the contents.

“Good morning, boys,” Morgana’s voice from behind them causes Leon to choke and the yogurt cup to go flying. Morgana pats him on the back, alarmed at how red his face turns. “Are you all right?”

Leon nods weakly as he sputters and coughs, and Merlin suppresses a grin. It’s obvious that Leon is deeply infatuated with Morgana, and the fact that she’s touching him isn’t helping him to get over his choking spell. She’s dressed impeccably, and Merlin asks her where she’s headed, hoping to relieve Leon of her embarrassing attentions.

“I have a date, actually,” she says, heading for the coffee maker. “Haven’t any of you wankers made a pot of coffee yet?”

Leon, having just regained his composure and started on a glass of juice, almost spits it out, probably wondering if Morgana has seen all the wanking in her name he’s been doing lately. Merlin grins at him, and Leon blushes furiously. Lance, oblivious to all, gathers his books and takes a seat on the living room floor. Merlin and Leon join him just as Gwen appears from her room in what looks to be her brother’s pyjamas and stands surveying them, hands on hips.

“Why does everyone always sit on the floor when we have perfectly good furniture?” she asks, indicating the couch from hell and its evil minion, the floral chair.

Merlin doesn’t know how to answer, and Morgana saves the day by distracting Gwen with the coffee maker. “Come help me with this fucking thing!” she yells.

“Find out who she’s got a date with,” Leon surprises Merlin by saying in a low voice. “Morgana,” he mouths, in case Merlin has any doubt to whom he’s referring.

When Morgana finally appears with her mug of coffee and sinks—very low—into the chair, Merlin says as casually as he can, “So, Morgana, who’s the date with?”

“His name’s Percy.” She takes a sip of her coffee, perfectly manicured nails gleaming red in the light pouring in from the as yet unadorned window.

“Oh?” Gwen asks, carefully perching on the edge of the couch with her cup. “I don’t remember you mentioning him.”

“Met him last night,” Morgana answers. “I’m only going out with him because I’m horny.”

Leon’s face changes so quickly from red to white, Merlin can’t help but feel sorry for him.

“Leon would’ve taken you to bed,” Lance supplies helpfully, surprising them all, and Merlin laughs outright because he can’t help it. Leon’s eyes widen like a frightened animal, and Morgana raises a dark perfectly plucked brow, but before she can say anything, the front door opens and Will appears, looking completely and thoroughly shagged.

“Speaking of getting some,” Gwen says, coffee cup to her lips. Will grins and saunters in, throwing his keys onto a table.

“Slut,” Merlin accuses from where he’s lying on the floor.

“You’re just jealous,” Will answers, heading for the kitchen, ass swaying.

“I am not jealous of your sexcapades with some twink!” Merlin shouts after him, and Gwaine’s head pokes out from their room, hair sticking every which way.

“I don’t suppose it’s too much to ask that you lot be quiet?” he inquires groggily.

“You still have Freya in there?” Gwen asks.

“Of course not!” Merlin answers for Gwaine, indignant. “I wouldn’t sleep in there while he’s fucking in the trundle! Besides, I don’t even think it’s _legal_ to fuck in a trundle. It’s a bloody kids’ bed, isn’t it?”

“What was I thinking?” Gwen asks with a small smile. “Unless it was that there was a threesome going on.”

“Like that would happen,” Merlin wrinkles his nose. “I’m not interested in women, Gwen, and there’s no way I’d do it with Gwaine.”

“Hey!” Gwaine says, affronted. “That hurt, Merlin.” He ruffles Merlin’s hair playfully. “And you’re right about the trundle…if any fucking went on, it was definitely in your bed.”

Merlin makes a horrified face, and Gwaine grabs him around the waist and pulls him up for a hug. “Ugh! Brush your teeth, you douche bag!” Merlin protests, trying to avoid Gwaine’s obnoxious kisses, which, despite being straight, he has no problem forcing on both men and women when he feels like it. Merlin puts his hands on Gwaine’s muscular chest and pushes, but it’s no use. He stops wiggling, laughing a bit helplessly, and waits for his friend to get bored and move on.

Arthur walks out in time to see Gwaine wrapped around a mildly protesting Merlin, and he again wonders if Merlin’s aware of Gwaine’s cheating.

“Do any of you lot have any correction fluid?” he asks, looking around, but avoiding the sight of Gwaine and Merlin, which bothers him for some reason.

“Sure,” Lance gets up and disappears into his room, returning with a small bottle.

“Thanks, mate.” Arthur says. He’s had to come to terms with the fact that Lance is not a pedophile or any other kind of reprobate, but simply a sincerely nice guy. He still doesn’t want to hang around him, though. He returns to his room and homework.

“Arthur, do you have a twenty?” Morgana calls from the other room. “I’ll pay you back.”

Arthur sighs and reaches for his wallet on the dresser before turning back to the living room.

“Where are you going?” he asks her when he hands her the money.

“To the coffee shop to meet a guy,” Morgana answers.

“Put me DOWN, you _tosser_!” Merlin yells as Gwaine spins about with him draped over his shoulder. Arthur keeps his eyes on Morgana.

“How well do you know this bloke?” he asks.

“Not very.” She shrugs.

“Perhaps I should go with you,” Arthur says seriously, and Morgana laughs.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Arthur! I don’t need a chaperone!”

“I think it’s sweet,” Gwen comments, getting up to put her cup in the sink. “And Arthur’s right, Morgana. What do you know about this Percy fellow?”

“Percy Knight?” Arthur asks. At Morgana’s nod, he says, “He’s all right, I guess. I’ve had a few classes with him. Just be home at a decent hour.”

“Oh, goody,” Morgana says sarcastically. “Thanks for the permission, _Dad_! And we’re just going for some coffee and to spend the afternoon somewhere, not out for the night.” But Morgana’s smiling when she grabs her purse and leaves. Merlin is now on the floor breathing hard, and Gwaine has gone into the kitchen for food. Leon is looking at the door that Morgana just closed with a yearning that makes Arthur commiserative and uncomfortable, aware that he’s felt exactly the same way recently.

“If you fancy her, Leon, why don’t you just ask her out?” he suggests.

Leon bites his lip. “Well, er, I…it’s just that…well, I don’t think I’m her type, exactly.”

“Morgana doesn’t have a type. Or maybe she does, but she could use a nice bloke like you.”

Leon bows his head, looking decidedly unworthy.

“Arthur’s right, Leon,” Merlin chimes in, recovered from Gwaine’s antics. “And who’s to say she won’t like you?”

Gwen has got her hands clasped together and is bouncing on the edge of the couch—not an easy feat. “You fancy Morgana, Leon?” she squeals. “But that’s lovely! You would make a beautiful couple! You _must_ ask her out!”

Leon looks horrified at all the attention and encouragement.

“Would you lot pipe down, please, so I can work?” Lance says mildly, and everyone immediately does. Only Lance could manage to say something like that without offending everyone or making them notch up the volume out of contrariness, Arthur muses.

“I have work to do,” he says, heading back to his room. “Two papers to write, and one hundred pages to read before classes in the morning.”

Merlin gets up and stretches. “I’m going to paint,” he announces, heading for the back patio where his easel is set up.

Arthur knows Merlin is an art student, and he’s interested to see what he paints. However, his pride and the sheer amount of work he has to do keeps him from pursuing it.

Hours pass, and the next time Arthur comes up for air, it’s dark outside and Morgana is offering him a cup of tea.

“Lance made dinner before he left for work,” she says. “Come and eat.”

Arthur blinks, looking around him. “Are you back from your date already?”

“I’ve been back for hours! Arthur, you’re wearing yourself out. Come and eat.”

Arthur stands, his cramped muscles protesting the motion, and follows his cousin to the kitchen, where she fixes him a plate of tuna casserole and sits at the bar watching him eat.

“You don’t have to watch… I promise to swallow every bite,” Arthur says around a mouthful.

Morgana smiles. “You know me too well.”

~~~O~~~O~~~O~~~

In the following weeks, Merlin doesn’t have a chance to work anymore on his resolution to get to know Arthur. The man is hardly ever around, instead spending much of his free time at the library studying. Merlin knows from Morgana that Arthur has a terrible class load—over twenty hours. He wonders why he does it to himself.

Very late one night Merlin finds himself unable to sleep due to Gwaine’s snoring like a freight train and Merlin’s Chinese food from earlier in the evening refusing to digest properly. He goes in search of antacids and notices Arthur’s light on. Will, he sees, is asleep on the living room floor under a pile of blankets.

Merlin knocks softly on Arthur’s door and peeks in, surveying the mess of books and papers all over the room. Arthur blinks at him, appearing so exhausted that Merlin immediately pushes the door open and walks in, taking a seat on the bed. “What are you doing?” he asks. “Don’t you have an early class on Wednesdays? You’d better get to bed.”

Arthur gestures to something in his lap with the drawn out, slow motions of the overly-fatigued. “Accounting.”

Merlin takes the paper from Arthur’s hand. It’s an unfinished assignment from an advanced class, but Merlin thinks he can do it since he’s had a bit of accounting himself, plus worked on his Uncle Gaius’ books occasionally. “I’ll take care of it.” He grasps Arthur by the upper arm and heaves him up, toppling him over onto the bed and pushing him to the middle. Grabbing a blanket, he covers him up with it and shuts off the light, first making sure he sets the beside alarm to 6 AM. On a whim, he smooths Arthur’s white- blond hair out of his face and stands staring down at him. Arthur’s been so hard at work, Merlin has never even seen his girlfriend. Perhaps they’ve broken up, because Merlin can’t imagine any relationship lasting through this kind of negligence. With a sigh, he leaves the room, shutting the door, and goes into the kitchen to finish Arthur’s work.

Several hours later, frantic cursing rudely awakens Merlin from where he’s slumped on the bar. He staggers out of the kitchen, noticing the blanket Will had used folded neatly on the sofa, and enters Arthur’s room to find him frantically tossing books right and left.

“I can’t find it!” Arthur cries before Merlin can even ask.

Merlin holds the accounting homework out to him. “Is this what you’re looking for?”

Arthur grabs it. “Where did you find it? Oh my God…was I so out of it that I don’t remember finishing it and getting into bed?”

Merlin grins. “No, even you aren’t that good. I found you in a zombie-like state in the middle of the night, and I put you to bed and finished it for you.”

Arthur gapes at him, incredulous. There are lines of fatigue on his face, and his eyes aren’t completely focused. Merlin pats him on the shoulder. “You really need to get more rest. And don’t worry; I’m pretty good at accounting.” He is astounded when the next second Arthur has enveloped him in an enormous hug. Merlin can smell his yummy, sleepy smell and fights the urge to bury his face in his neck. When Arthur lets go and heads for the bathroom, Merlin is left staring after him.

~~~O~~~O~~~O~~~

Arthur can’t believe that Merlin did that for him. He keeps coming back to that thought whenever he has a lucid moment between lectures, splashing his face with cold water in the restroom, and downing hot cups of coffee. When he finally gets home, he looks around for him.

“Merlin?” he calls. He’s seen Merlin’s bike chained outside, so he knows he’s around somewhere. He walks through the flat and catches sight of Merlin on the back patio. It's unseasonably warm, and Merlin is wearing a snug pair of jeans, a long-sleeved white shirt, and one of his odd scarves. Arthur slides the door open.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” he says, because Merlin is puffing on a cigarette while painting.

“Only when I’m having trouble with my art,” Merlin replies, cocking his head to the side and flicking his brush at the canvas. He has on a pair of black, fingerless gloves.

“I wanted to say thanks for helping me last night. I was really…well, overwhelmed,” Arthur tells him.

“I could tell,” says Merlin with a grin. “I don’t even think you knew I was in the room. I got up to go to the bathroom and saw your light on. It was painfully obvious you needed sleep.”

“Yeah,” Arthur looks down. “Well, thanks.” He moves to look at Merlin’s painting.

“So? What do you think?” Merlin glances at him.

Arthur tilts his head, considering. “I’ve seen worse.”

“Oh, yeah?” Merlin huffs out a laugh.

“It’s a bit… pretentious.”

Merlin splutters. “Pretentious! Where do you get that from?”

Arthur holds his pose for a moment before giving in and smiling. “Just yanking your chain,” he says. “I really like it. A lot, actually. Red’s my favorite color.”

Merlin rewards him with an electrifying grin. He offers Arthur his cigarette, and Arthur takes a drag, trying not to think about Merlin’s lips having been on it just before, because that thought makes him want to kiss Merlin.

“It’s yours,” Merlin says next, and Arthur frowns, looking at the cigarette.

 “No, the painting, you tosser!”

Arthur blinks. “You’re giving me your painting?”

“That is if you really like it, and you weren’t just saying that.”

“Of course I like it! I don’t say things I don’t mean. May I really have it?” Arthur is touched, and he isn’t sure where to rest his eyes, because for all his posh upbringing, he really is quite awkward around other people. Particularly those he fancies.

“I said so, didn’t I? I’ve just finished it. We’ll leave it out here to dry.” Merlin puts his paints away, and they step back into the flat. Will has arrived and is cooking something very onion-heavy. Arthur follows Merlin into the living room where the news is on the television. They sit on the floor.

“Can’t we buy some pillows for the couch or something?” Arthur asks. “Maybe that won’t hurt Gwen’s feelings.”

“It’s a thought. Maybe we just ought to get some big ones to throw around the floor. Or some bean bags.” Merlin leans against the sofa. “So, why are you taking so many classes? You’re clearly burning yourself out.”

Arthur is surprised at the abrupt change of topic. “Well, my father wants me to take business courses, but I’m interested in literature. So I take a full load of business and as much lit as I think I can manage.”

“But your major is in business?”

Arthur nods. “Father expects me to work in his company when I graduate.” He looks down.

“Is that what you want?” Merlin asks after a moment.

Arthur looks away. “I want to make him happy,” he finally answers, knowing that’s not what Merlin means, but unable to voice his deepest desires. He leans his head on the seat of the chair, feeling himself drifting off even though he doesn’t want to. He’s just so damn tired.

The next thing he knows, there are more people in the room. He’s aware of the buzz of conversation before he opens his eyes to see Gwen curled up on the couch with a text book and Gwaine sitting on the floor with Merlin playing a card game. Will has climbed into the chair which Arthur is leaning against and is eating.

“The ziti is ready,” Will tells him, nudging his head with his foot.

“It’s delicious, despite its noxious fumes,” Merlin tells him.

“Shut up,” Will says mildly. “You’re jealous because you can only make eggs and the occasional warmed up pizza.”

Merlin gestures rudely at Will before turning back to the card game just in time to see Gwaine pulling a face card out of his sleeve. “You’re cheating!” Merlin accuses, putting his cards down. Gwaine answers with a wolfish grin.

“Incorrigible,” mutters Merlin, getting to his feet. “I’ll get you a plate, Arthur.” He goes toward the kitchen, and Arthur again thinks how nice Merlin is before his eyes begin to grow too heavy to keep open. He knows he really ought to head to bed, even though it can’t be any later than six.

He’s sleeping again, and then Merlin is suddenly there beside him, a compassionate look on his face. He fades, and the next thing Arthur feels are fingers carding through his hair and the sound of gunfire from the telly. Gwen is talking and Morgana is answering, her voice drifting across the room in a carefree lilt. Arthur wonders, if it isn’t his cousin stroking his head, who is it? And whose thigh is it beneath his cheek? But he’s too far gone to think it through and surrenders himself to deep sleep.

It’s sometime later when he feels himself being lifted to his feet. “Come on, big boy.” It’s Gwaine’s voice, and Arthur struggles to open his eyes as sleep engages him in a tug of war. He blinks, murmurs something unintelligible. He feels arms on his other side, around his waist, and he’s being jostled across the room. Suddenly the murmurs turn to whispers, and Arthur opens his eyes long enough to blearily see Will sprawled in his bed across the room, a pillow pulled over his head and his neon briefs glowing in the dark.

“There, now, Arthur, sit down,” Merlin tells him, and Arthur obediently sits on his bed, his head lolling as Gwaine peels off Arthur’s shirt.

“Wow, a nipple ring,” Gwaine whispers admiringly.

“Sexy, eh?” Merlin breathes.

“Yeah, even I admit that.” Hands reach for the button of Arthur’s jeans.

“Not those,” Merlin says.

“He’s not going to be comfortable with these on,” Gwaine objects.

“But I think he’s a bit homophobic,” Merlin whispers, and Arthur wonders why. His eyes flutter, and he makes a valiant try to wake up and protest that he is _not_ homophobic.

“Good thing I’m not gay then,” Gwaine replies, and then Arthur’s jeans are being stripped from his legs and he’s pushed under covers, and it’s blessedly comfortable, and he’s lost, so lost.

He awakens to his alarm blaring, and Will spouting swear words from his side of the room. Arthur shuts off the alarm, blindly searches for clothes in the dark, and hurries out and into the bathroom. He emerges fifteen minutes later, discovers he hasn’t time to eat, and rushes out of the flat, heading for the library where he spends two hours finishing up research and typing a paper that’s due at nine AM.

He didn’t eat dinner the night before, and he’s shaking from hunger by the time he gets out of class at eleven. His phone buzzes, and he fishes it out of his pocket.

_My class ends at 12. Lunch?_

It’s Morgana. Arthur texts back.

_Sure, the fish and chip place?_

_Okay. 12:15._

Arthur flips his phone shut and heads that way, his incredibly heavy back pack slung over one shoulder.

He’s got a cold cup of tea beside him and is deeply involved in a short story in his lit book when Morgana arrives in a puff of spicy cologne.

“Arthur!” she exclaims. “You look terrible! I thought you got a good night’s sleep for once!”

Arthur raises an eyebrow. “Thanks, Morgana, you’re looking lovely yourself.”

“Your hands are shaking!”

“I’m just hungry, that’s all. I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday.”

“Oh my God, you idiot! Let’s order, then!” Morgana motions over a waiter and asks for two specials. “You were asleep most of the evening yesterday.” She hangs her purse off the side of her chair. “Konked right out in the living room on top of Merlin.”

Arthur flushes, embarrassed. “I thought I’d dreamed that part.”

Morgana smiles. “Nope. You were just like a giant baby. And then Gwaine and Merlin put you to bed.”

Arthur thinks back-- there’s something he wants to recall about that, but his mind just can’t latch onto it.

“But here you are still looking totally wiped out, and you haven’t eaten in twenty-four hours…Arthur, won’t you consider stopping this madness right now? You’re clearly over-worked.”

“Morgana, these literature classes are important to me,” Arthur says stubbornly.

“I know that, you prat! But you hate the business classes! Tell Uncle that you are going to stop taking them!”

“And then who will pay for university, tell me that.” Arthur takes a sip of the water the waiter sets in front of him.

“Do you mean to say Uncle will stop paying for your education if you don’t take the courses he wants you to?” Morgana asks, aghast.

Arthur gives her an exasperated look. “What do you think?”

Morgana presses her lips together. “Oh, Arthur,” she finally says.

Arthur holds up a hand. “Stop. Don’t pity me. I can handle this. I’ll get some extra sleep tonight; don’t worry.”

The waiter brings their food, and they begin to eat, and although Arthur’s been famished, he now finds that he can’t eat much. Morgana pretends not to notice, just sends him worried looks now and then. Just before two, they walk across campus together before separating to their respective classes.

That night, Will brings home several bottles of wine and everyone sits around drinking it. Arthur tries very hard not to fall asleep, because these days he feels like the most boring person around—a regular Rip Van Winkle who sleeps through everything. He’s watching Gwen and Lance flirt in a backward, constipated way that makes him want to jump in and just force them together. If it’s so painfully obvious to everyone else that they fancy each other, why isn’t it obvious to them?

Merlin is painting Morgana’s toenails while watching _A Walk to Remember._ Arthur’s pretty sure that is really happening and isn’t just a part of his drifting dreams, although he has dozed off a couple of times and dreamt about a monkey riding a Great Dane. He’s also pretty sure that Will is sniffling into a handkerchief, his eyes pinned to the screen. Arthur thinks maybe Merlin tries to engage him in conversation a few times, but sleep pulls at him, and he’s useless.

Not wanting a replay of the previous night when he’d evidently used Merlin for a cushion and had to be undressed by Gwaine, Arthur finally staggers to his feet and heads for his darkened bedroom. Just before he crawls into bed, he notices that the painting Merlin gave him is hanging above the headboard. He smiles and closes his eyes, quickly drifting off to sleep.

~~~O~~~O~~~O~~~

Sometimes Merlin thinks he’s very close to getting to know Arthur Pendragon. (Or Arthur Pratdragon, as Gwaine calls him). And then Arthur falls asleep. Merlin’s sure he’s never seen anyone quite so exhausted. And it isn’t any wonder—he’s constantly either in class or doing course work. Merlin feels like a right lazy arse in comparison, what with his measly 15 hours.

“Merlin, have you been having kinky dreams lately?” Gwaine asks out of the blue one morning as he butters his toast.

“Um. No?”

“Try again.”

“Okay, maybe. Why do you ask?” _God_ , Merlin hopes he hasn’t been wanking in his sleep.

“Just some odd sounds you’ve been making in the night,” Gwaine says. “Who is it this time? Prince Harry?”

Merlin blushes. “Yeah,” he lies, too embarrassed to admit that his most kinky dreams have involved Arthur. He doesn’t even know why he’s been dreaming about him—Arthur’s way out of Merlin’s league, and straight to boot. But dream about him he does, almost every night, always in various stages of undress and the nipple ring playing a recurring role.

“Oh, thought it might’ve been me,” Gwaine says with a leer. “Must be difficult sleeping within a few feet of me every night.” Merlin kicks him from under the table.

“Not likely,” he says. “I know too much about your personal habits to be attracted to you. Such as the fact that you sometimes bite your toenails.”

Gwen enters the kitchen at that moment and stops dead in her tracks. “Ew!” she sends Gwaine a disgusted look.

“It’s a lie!” Gwaine protests, chewing his toast. After belting down a glass of milk, he says, “I’m going to the movies with Freya tonight. Something scary she wants to see.”

Merlin smiles. “Freya’s great. You’re a lucky man.”

“Oh? And what about her? Isn’t she a lucky lady to have me?”

“No comment,” Merlin rises from the table and grabs his messenger bag. “I have Art History this morning. See you later, mate. Bye, Gwen.” He heads for the door.

“Oh, Merlin!” Gwen comes after him. “Here’s a piece of my crumb cake I baked last night. Eat it for a snack.”

“Thanks, Gwen.” Merlin kisses her cheek.

~~~O~~~

 

On most Friday nights, everyone comes back to the flat and passes out for the night, sometimes after a lot of beer and take-out dinner. On most Saturday nights, they all go out together or on their respective dates. On this particular Saturday evening, Merlin is curled up on one of the bean bags he’s recently purchased, one of Gwen’s gay romance novels in hand.  He barely hears as people enter and exit the apartment, although he does catch the conversation between Arthur and Morgana.

“Arthur, you promised to get more rest!”

“And I have been, Morgana!”

“Well, go to bed now, before you fall over.”

“You’re not the boss of me, you know that, right?”

“I think I _am_ the boss of you, since you clearly don’t know how to take care of yourself!”

Arthur retires, grumbling, into his room, and Morgana leaves.

Leon pokes his head out of the kitchen. “Where did she go? Merlin!”

Merlin pulls his gaze away from the book. “What?”

“Morgana. Where’d she go?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“Is it another date with that Percy fellow? The one who looks like he’s on steroids?”

“I don’t know, Leon. For Christ’s sake, if you fancy her, why don’t you just ask her out?”

Leon huffs and stalks into his room, slamming the door.

Several chapters later, Merlin looks up to find Gwen and Lance snogging in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. When they surface to find his shocked eyes on them, they smile embarrassedly and head into Gwen’s bedroom, hands clasped. _Well, it’s about fucking time_ , Merlin thinks, returning to his book. After that, Merlin doesn’t see or hear anything except the clock by the door ticking, and by the time he shuts his book, he’s wiping his eyes. The hero dies a tragic death, the love of his life at his side, and Merlin is devastated and completely disoriented, half believing himself out on the moors of Scotland. Sniffling, he stands, a little wobble-legged, and looks at the clock. 2:45 AM. Merlin can’t believe it. He’d read almost the entire novel in one sitting. Fresh tears fill his eyes as he thinks again about the sad ending. He is a complete sucker for gay romance novels, particularly heart-wrenching ones. Staggering into his bedroom, he strips down to his briefs and climbs into bed, closing his eyes with a sigh as he settles into the mattress.

“Oh! Oooooh! God, Gwaine, yes! HARDER!”

Merlin’s eyes pop open.

“Give it to me, Gwaine! Yes! Oh, shit, YES!”

 _Oh, fuck, that’s Freya’s voice!_ Merlin looks over the side of the bed toward the trundle, immediately regretting doing so. Jumping up, he flies from the room, shutting the door. _Bloody hell!_ Eying the horrible sofa, he glances toward Gwen’s room where she and Lance had disappeared hours earlier. They’d probably had polite and considerate swoony sex before falling asleep wrapped in one another’s arms. He heads for Lance and Leon’s room, hoping he can sleep in Lance’s bed, only to find it locked. Tapping repeatedly, he gets no answer. Evidently, Leon is the type to hold a grudge.

With a sigh, Merlin sneaks into Arthur and Will’s room, hoping Will has spent the night out.

“Oh, fuckity fuck!” He moans when he sees Will spread-eagled over his bed and snoring loudly.

“Merlin?” Arthur’s voice comes out of the darkness.

“Sorry to wake you,” Merlin says a bit wetly, still melancholy from his book, and maybe a little bit from being displaced from his bed, too. “I—well, I don’t have anywhere to sleep. Gwaine’s in our room with some girl, screwing her brains out—“

“Sleep with me,” Arthur cuts in, surprising Merlin into silence. “Come on—there’s enough room.”

Merlin swallows and slowly walks over to the bed. Arthur has scooted up to the wall, lying on his side, and Merlin sheepishly crawls in beside him. This is strange behavior for a homophobe, he thinks, pulling the covers up around him. Of course, he guesses he’ll have to admit that Arthur really couldn’t be a true homophobe, considering he put up with Will. “You sure about this?” he asks.

“Of course.” Arthur surprises him further by reaching out and giving his head a stroke, almost taking his eye out in the process because it’s so dark in the room. “Sorry.”

“S’okay,” Merlin chuckles, “I have an extra.”

“Not for your eye,” Arthur says. “Well, that, too, but I meant about Gwaine, you know. It can’t be easy.”

“Yeah, well, I’m used to it.” Truly, being Gwaine’s best friend has kept him from a good night’s sleep more than once.

They fall silent, and Merlin can feel warmth emanating off Arthur’s body so close to him in the darkness.

“Why do you put up with it?” Arthur asks suddenly.

Merlin flounders a moment before answering. It feels weird lying beside Arthur. Weird and… good. “Well, I’ve known Gwaine a long time. I doubt he’s going to change.”

“Merlin, you could have any man you want.”

Merlin struggles to keep up with the quick change of topic. “Um. Thanks?”

Arthur sighs. “I’m just saying, you should get out and find someone who appreciates you.”

Merlin frowns in the darkness. “Okay. I’ll…do that.”

“You will?” Arthur says. “Promise?”

“Sure, Arthur. I’ll find someone completely worthy of me.” Merlin quips, but Arthur is taking him seriously, his body relaxing into the bed.

“Good, Merlin. Good. I’m glad, because you deserve someone who will treat you right.” He yawns and soon his breathing becomes deep and even. Arthur has fallen asleep yet again, and Merlin is beginning to think that’s all he’ll ever get from Arthur—snatches of conversation between bouts of sleep.

Merlin lies awake for a long time going over what Arthur has said and wondering what the hell it was all about. Arthur rarely talks to him at all, and now he’s urging Merlin to find a guy who will treat him right? He feels a bit pleased at the attention and seems to remember Morgana once saying that Arthur doesn’t really have any friends—not because he isn’t a great guy, but because he’s socially challenged like his father (Morgana’s words).

On impulse, Merlin reaches over and tentatively takes the sleeping man’s hand in his, palm warm and heavy and fingers lax, gently squeezing it. Perhaps he should try to find Arthur a nice girl to date. It seems that whatever girlfriend he’d had when he’d moved in is history now, although she’s never reclaimed her book-- he saw it on the shelf. He mentally runs through a list of women he knows, wondering who would be best. Elena, perhaps? She’s fun. Sophia—no, she’s really a bit of a bitch. Vivian? Mithian? He’ll have to look into it. Funny, but the thought of any woman in Arthur’s arms doesn’t feel right to Merlin. He goes to sleep still gripping Arthur’s hand.

 

Arthur awakens slowly, jerking a little until he remembers it’s Sunday. He’s lying in bed, but something’s different. For one, his hand is enclosed in someone else’s. For another, there’s a warm body beside him. Then he remembers inviting Merlin to sleep with him the night before. But why are they holding hands? Gently, he disengages them, although he does it reluctantly, because he rather likes the way it feels.

He can’t believe Gwaine’s outrageous behavior, or Merlin’s willingness to put up with it. Recently it came to Arthur that on the night that Gwaine and Merlin had helped him to bed, Gwaine had defiantly claimed he wasn’t gay. The fact that Gwaine would not only cheat on Merlin, but deny liking men as well brings Gwaine to a new low in Arthur's mind. Anger, surprisingly strong, wells up within Arthur on Merlin’s behalf, and he seriously contemplates stalking into Gwaine’s room and punching him in the nose. He looks over at Merlin, whose face is innocent and sweet as he sleeps, his lips ridiculously plump and pretty. On impulse, Arthur leans in and kisses them. Merlin’s eyes begin to flutter open, and Arthur quickly scoots off the bed and heads into the bathroom.

~~~O~~~O~~~

Later that day, on a break from classes, Merlin meets Elena at a local deli. They’ve been friends for years—ever since Elena and her family moved into the house beside Merlin and his mother. Elena looks harried, pushing her blonde hair behind her ears.

“I have so many bloody papers due this week! Why can’t they give us a break?”

“I know. I have a similar problem,” Merlin responds, taking a sip of his tea.

“How is the campus flat working out?” Elena asks, lighting a cigarette. They have seated themselves on the patio for this purpose. Elena is the closest thing to a chain smoker Merlin has ever seen. She offers Merlin one, but he declines.

“It’s going well,” Merlin says.

“Everybody get along? But, of course, you’re rooming with Gwaine, so I’m sure that’s terrific. Managed to turn him yet?”

“Elena, even if I wanted Gwaine, which I definitely _don’t_ , you really can’t turn anyone gay.”

“Aw, so there aren’t any blokes on your gaydar?” Elena looks disappointed. She flicks her ashes in the ashtray and studies Merlin’s face.

“I don’t have time for any kind of romance right now,” Merlin tells her, lying, of course.

“Who says anything about romance? Maybe you just need a good shag, yeah?”

Merlin eats a chip, thinking this over. “It’s been a while, but I’m not going to just pick someone up at a club.”

“What about Will? Isn’t he one of your flat mates?”

“Good God, I’m not that desperate! Will is absolutely depraved. He’ll shag anything with the right parts.” Merlin decides to confide in Elena. “There is someone I rather fancy, but I’m pretty sure he’s straight. I just can’t help feeling this pull toward him.”

“Yeah?” Elena perks up. “Who is this someone?”

“Nobody you know. But there’s something about him that ...” He shrugs. “I don’t know. If nothing else, I’d really like to be his friend. But sometimes I just think there’s something more there. Something about the way he looks at me, you know? And the other night, when Gwaine had Freya in our room, he invited me to sleep in his bed with him.”

“What?” Elena’s eyes grow wide. “That doesn’t sound straight, Merlin!”

“There was nowhere else for me to sleep.”

“What about the couch?”

“You haven’t seen our couch, Elena. No, I think he was just being nice. I’ve helped him out a couple of times, and he was returning the favor.”

Elena wrinkles her nose. “I don’t know, Merlin. Most straight guys I know aren’t comfortable with other guys in their bed with them. Particularly gay guys. He does know you’re gay, yeah?”    

“I’m pretty sure he does. I’ve never tried to hide it. And then something else happened.”

“What? What?” Elena leans forward eagerly.

“I may have dreamed it,” Merlin shakes his head.

“ _Merlin_ …”Elena gives him a threatening look.

“I thought…for a second…I thought he…kissed me.”

Elena squeals.

“But I was half asleep, and it seems so unlikely.”

“I really think you’re over-thinking this, Merlin, but maybe you could put a couple feelers out? See if he’s responsive.”

“I was actually thinking of fixing you up with him for that purpose,” Merlin admits.

“Really?” Elena considers. “Well, I’ve always wanted to be Nancy Drew. I can investigate… see if he’s gay.” Elena sits back and thinks a moment. “Yes…I’ll throw myself at him. Take one for the team.”

“We’re not on the same team, Elena,” Merlin laughs. “And you are _not_ Nancy Drew.”

“We sort of are…the team that likes men. Do you want me to try or not?”

Merlin considers. What does he have to lose?

                                                                                                ~~O~~

That’s how Elena ends up with Arthur the next Saturday everyone is out together. Merlin can barely watch while Elena endeavors to get her bosom in Arthur’s line of vision as many times as possible, as well as grope him relentlessly under the table. Merlin tries to transmit the words _cool it_ to her by sheer mind power, but it doesn’t work.

For Arthur’s part, he seems a bit gobsmacked. When Merlin hit him with the news that he’d invited someone along that he thinks would be perfect for Arthur, Arthur barely said a word. But he’d gone along with it, and he has his arm around Elena…no, scratch that. His arm is around her chair. But he’s looking at her while she tells him a story—at her face, not her bosom. And her bosom really is hanging out there—Elena has worn her most outrageous push-up bra. What straight man wouldn’t look at that bosom? Gwaine has been leering at it for the past half hour.

Finally, Merlin claims weariness and heads home, unable to watch anymore. He swears to himself that if Arthur and Elena end up married because he fixed them up, he is going to move to some remote part of the world and spend the rest of his life carving Jesus statues out of match sticks.

In bed, hours later, he hears the others come in, and he’s pretty sure he recognizes Arthur’s cough and the particular creak of his door as it closes. (How pathetic is that?) A moment later his phone buzzes and he picks it up.

A text from Elena.

Definitely gay. xoxo

Are you sure?  Merlin types and sends.

YES! We’ll talk tomorrow.

Merlin barely sleeps, wondering what happened. He waits until the sun is decently up in the sky, takes his cell phone, and walks to the park.

“Well?” he asks Elena when she picks up.

“Fuck it, Merlin, it isn’t even nine o’clock yet!”

“What do you expect when you leave me hanging? Now, spill!” Merlin tries to sound threatening, but his anxiety makes his voice crack and ruins the effect.

Elena sighs in a long-suffering way, and he hears her light a cigarette. “He’s gay, okay, Merlin? I know how guys act—even those not particularly interested in me. I practically jumped the man, offering him free sex, and he didn’t take me up on it. And he never got hard. Not once. I’m sure of it.”

“Elena, you didn’t have to go that far!” Merlin objects, secretly pleased all the same.

“Believe me, it was no sacrifice. That boy is _hot!_ And did you know he has a nipple ring?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Merlin admits. “It’s all I think about these days. Elena, are you positive? I don’t want to make a fool out of myself.”

“Merlin, if Arthur Pendragon isn’t gay, I’ll move to Peru and make necklaces out of pigeon bones for the rest of my life.”

“If I throw myself at him and he’s straight, you’ll have to, because I’ll hunt you down,” is Merlin’s heart-felt reply.

                                                                                                                ~~O~~

Elena’s proclamation is constantly on Merlin’s mind as the holidays quickly approach, but still he doesn’t make his move. Part of the reason is because Arthur actually thanks him for the date with Elena. He says she’s a very nice girl, and they had a good time. Merlin has no idea what to make of that.

One day a couple of weeks before Christmas, Arthur stands motionless in the center of the living area, his eyes glued to a letter from Uther’s secretary.

“It says he’s spending Christmas with his sister in Wales, so he will be here this weekend to celebrate the holiday with us,” Arthur tells Morgana.

“Guess we’d better get shopping, then,” she says, flipping through a magazine, one of her bare feet tucked beneath her in the chair.

“God, what if someone slips and mentions my literature classes?” Arthur worries.

“Nobody’s going to do that,” Morgana tells him. “Please don’t get an ulcer over this, Arthur. It’ll be fine. I’ll make sure of it.”

Arthur takes a deep, calming breath and tries to believe her.

“My mum says the same thing,” Merlin announces from the kitchen. “She’ll be with Uncle Gaius for the holiday, so she’s coming here this weekend. Maybe we should cook a meal?” He walks into the living room, a cup of yogurt and a spoon in his hands.

Arthur shakes his head. “None of us can cook a good holiday dinner. No, we’d better make reservations somewhere. Father will expect it to be really nice.”

“How about that restaurant that caters?” Morgana suggests. “The one with the farm animals on the sign? They advertise home cooking, and we could bring it here and serve it on our dishes just like we made it.”

“Devious! I like it,” says Merlin with a grin as he takes a spoonful of yogurt.

“Like what?” asks Will, coming out of the bathroom. He’s wearing an awful T-shirt that shows Santa Claus kissing one of his male elves under the mistletoe with a rainbow streaming out of his butt that reads, _Have a Gay Holiday_.

“We’re talking about having a big dinner this weekend,” Leon tells him, closing his science book and tossing it on the floor where it lands on Morgana’s foot. She gasps, and Leon falls all over himself apologizing to her.

“Uther is coming, along with Merlin’s mum,” Arthur explains to Will. “What will your parents do for Christmas? Will you be going home?”

“Yeah, I suppose. My sister usually comes in.” Will perches on the edge of the couch next to where Merlin’s taken a seat and ruffles his friend’s hair.

“Quit! It took me hours to achieve this look,” Merlin objects, pushing Will’s hand away.

“Really? So it’s the just-pulled-my-head-out-of-the-dryer look you’re going for these days?”

Merlin flicks yogurt in Will’s face, but Will only licks it off.

“What about you, Leon?” Morgana asks, trying to get his mind off her foot.

“Er…uh…”

“Are your parents going to be home for Christmas?” Morgana persists.

“I—think they will be. They want me to come.”

“Well, if they want you to come, surely it’s not just to find that they’ve left?” Morgana teases, a small smile playing about her lips. Leon’s eyes drop to them, staring.

There’s an awkward silence. Arthur recovers first. “Well, I’ll just look up the number for that restaurant, then. Can you think of the name of it?”

“Here,” Merlin says, standing. “I’ll get my lap top, and give the menu a look.” He walks around Morgana, who is still staring at Leon in what looks to be a stand-off of some sort.

“So we’ll make a Christmas party of it, yeah?” Will says, getting a bit excited and trying to bounce on the hard sofa. “Ouch.” He rubs his butt.

Lance and Gwen come in the front door, and Will fills them in.

“Oh, this will be so fun!” Gwen squeals.

“We’ll need a tree,” Lance states, and the three of them start discussing decorations.

“You sure you aren’t gay, Lance?” Gwaine asks from the kitchen where he’s just gotten off the phone.

Lance rolls his eyes, and reaches for Gwen’s hand. She smiles shyly.

“This is going to be brilliant!” Will exclaims. “I always said I should be a party planner.”

“And a fashion designer, and a nurse…” Merlin has pulled up the website, and he shows it to Arthur. Morgana, having won her staring contest with Leon, takes a seat on Merlin’s other side.  “Let’s have the roast turkey, stuffing with sausage meat, roasted chestnuts and…hmmm, let’s see.” She takes the laptop from Merlin, who looks helplessly at Arthur. Arthur shrugs.

“If you’re taking over, be sure to use your credit card,” Arthur tells his cousin. He stands up, giving into his anxiety for a moment and pacing the room. He can’t believe his father is coming. Why would he do such a thing? Why can’t he spend the Christmas holidays on his yacht as he normally does?

“We’re going to get decorations,” Gwen announces, pulling on her coat. “Anyone else want to come?”

“No way,” Gwaine says, plopping down in the place Morgana has just vacated in order to get her card from her purse. He sprawls on the couch, laying his head in Merlin’s lap. Arthur watches as Merlin absently begins to scratch Gwaine’s scalp, and Gwaine purrs like a big cat, one long leg thrown over the back of the couch.

Arthur can’t stand it. The more he gets to know Merlin, the less worthy of him Gwaine seems to be. Scowling, he goes into the kitchen for orange juice before retiring to his room to study. He has four exams coming up that week, plus a research paper due. He doesn’t have time to think about Christmas or worry about entertaining his father. Or think about Merlin and why he’s with a wanker like Gwaine.

As he tries to concentrate on economics, his mind keeps wandering. What if his father does find out about the lit classes? One of his flat mates could slip up and mention all the hours he’s taking. Uther would be furious. Arthur’s stomach clenches. He looks over toward the living area where Merlin is still stroking Gwaine’s long hair, and a fierce yearning fills him. After his ‘date’ with Merlin’s friend Elena, he can no longer continue to deny his sexuality, but he doesn’t know what to do about it. He can’t come out to his father, but could he possibly get up the courage to come out to his flat mates? After all, how awkward is it to be set up on a date by the guy he really wants to date?

As Saturday approaches, Arthur hides away his literature books and anything else incriminating that his dad might see. He isn’t sure of the exact day of his father’s arrival, as Uther has waffled about it a bit while moving appointments around. He hopes he’ll arrive fifteen minutes before dinner on Saturday and then leave immediately after. This makes Arthur feel a real shit. Does his father really deserve this after planning a trip specifically to see him? Is it Uther’s fault that Arthur wants to crawl under something and hide every time he’s around? Morgana would tell him to grow some balls, if he ever decides to discuss it with her, which he won’t.

On the Thursday before, Gwen and Lance play Christmas carols on Gwen’s computer as they decorate the tree. It’s a balsam fir that Will, Gwaine, Leon, and Lance struggled to get into the flat and standing relatively straight while Arthur, Merlin, Gwen and Morgana stood directing, “to the left…a little more…a little more…no, to the right a bit” until Will started cussing and Gwaine threatened to throw the tree off the balcony.

Since then, Merlin has been locked away writing a paper. He emerges just as Gwen gets the star on the top branch, his hair sticking up everywhere and a pencil behind each ear. Morgana smiles at him, pulling the pencils out and smoothing down his dark waves.

“I got the paper sent off to my professor,” Merlin says with a sigh. “Twenty-five pages, MLA format.” He watches Gwaine as he makes his way around the flat hammering mistletoe over every door.

“Just in time for all the fun,” Morgana tells him, handing him a cup of punch.

Merlin tastes it and wrinkles his nose. “It’s a bit strong, isn’t it?” The words come out hoarse because the punch has singed his throat.

“Gwaine made it,” Morgana replies, which explains everything, of course. A knock sends her to the door to let Elena in.

“Elena, welcome!” she says, and Elena grins, pulling off her coat to reveal a pair of red pyjamas with _jingle my bell_ written on them in white lettering. Merlin’s relieved to see her in something that doesn’t have her boobs hanging halfway out, but he can’t say the same for Gwaine, who looks a bit disappointed.

Merlin walks over and gives her a hug. “Glad you could make it!”

“How could I pass up a pyjama movie party?” she asks. She shivers. “It looks like snow out there.” Slipping out of her sneakers, she leaves them by the door and looks around. “Oh, your flat is great! You have it decorated so nicely.”

“That’d be Gwen’s work,” Merlin tells her. Will clears his throat from behind him. “And Will’s,” Merlin adds.

Gwen hugs Elena. “How are your classes going?”

“Pretty well. I think I’m passing, at least.”

Gwen rolls her eyes. “You’ve always been an excellent student. I’m sure you’re doing more than just passing!”

“Gwen,” Elena says, getting a good look at everyone, “why in the hell am I the only one in my holiday pyjamas?”

“Oh, we’ll all be changing shortly, don’t worry,” Gwen promises. She claps her hands together and announces, “It’s time to be amazed by our glorious tree, everyone! Elena, we’ve been working all day on this. Someone hit the lights!”

Arthur moves to the wall switch and turns them off. Lance flicks another switch and dozens of tiny white lights illuminate the tree.

Everyone breaths a soft “oooohhh…” in unison, and Gwen gets out a reverent, “It’s _magical_!” before the whole thing goes dark again.

“What the FUCK?” Gwen yells. All heads turn her way. “Holy SHIT, I can’t believe this is happening!”

“Calm down, Gwen, we’ll fix it,” Lance says.

“Don’t tell me to calm down! Look at the damn thing! We spent hours…HOURS…getting those lights on. BRAND NEW LIGHTS! And they stayed on, what? Twenty seconds? I can’t fucking BELIEVE this!”

Arthur moves toward the tree, unplugs the cords, adds a strip outlet, tightens some bulbs, and the tree lights up again.

“Oh, thank GOD!” Gwen sighs. “Arthur, you’re a fucking genius!”

Arthur grins.

“She can be a real spitfire,” Morgana says to Lance. “Sure you’re up to the task?” Lance lets out a breath and retreats to the couch.

Will asks Elena if she’s seen the fresh wreath on the door and greenery down the banister outside in which he’s incorporated a plethora of pink lights.

“Yes, it’s simply lovely, Will! You certainly have the touch.” She steps away and unknowingly stands beneath the mistletoe.

As if on cue, Gwaine appears out of nowhere and dips Elena low, kissing her thoroughly.

“Oh…my,” Elena says, when she comes up for air.

“Slag,” Will accuses. “Gwaine, that is, not you, Elena.”

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black,” Gwaine returns with a cocky smile.

Merlin sees that Arthur seems to be avoiding Elena and distracts him with some peanut butter balls.

The door knocker sounds again, and Merlin finds his mother on the porch loaded down with presents and food. Gwaine takes her things, and Merlin brings her inside. Hunith takes off her coat and pinches Gwaine’s cheeks. “You need to put some fat on those bones, boy,” she tells him fondly. “Have you been taking care of my Merlin?”

“You’d better believe it,” Gwaine says. “He has his nose to the books.”

Merlin grins and, glancing at Arthur, is absolutely taken aback by the caustic look Arthur shoots Gwaine’s way.

“Um, Arthur, this is my mother. Mum, this is Arthur Pendragon, another flat mate.” Arthur’s face morphs into something more pleasant and cordial. He shakes her hand politely.

“Oh, what a handsome boy you are, Arthur!” Hunith gushes, to Merlin’s complete dismay and embarrassment. “I’m sure you make the girls wild—and some of the boys, too!” she winks at him. “I’m surprised Merlin hasn’t told me about you yet.”

“Mum!” Merlin exclaims, watching the flush creep over Arthur’s face. He’s certain his is just as red. Gwaine takes the bags of presents from Merlin and begins unloading them beneath the tree.

“Careful with those, Gwaine, some are fragile,” Hunith says. “Oh, what a beautiful tree you kids have!”

Gwen smiles, thanks her, and claps her hands together. “Okay, now everyone get into their most comfortable pyjamas! We have a fun night planned. Rudolph will be on in twenty minutes!”

“Oh, my,” Hunith says, and Merlin leans in and tells her, “Just go with it, Mum. Gwen can turn psycho on a dime.”

“I heard that!” Gwen interrupts. “He’s being facetious, Mrs. Emrys. I just want some family fun.”

“Well, I’m all for that,” Hunith says. “Merlin? Where shall I change?”

“That’s Gwaine’s and my room over there.”

“Thank God,” Elena says, stuffing a peanut butter ball in her mouth. “Now I won’t be the only one dressed like this.”

Arthur tries to smile at Elena but knows it comes out looking sick; he’s so embarrassed at the way their date went that he can’t quite meet her eyes.

“Go, Arthur, change into your pj’s I bought you!” Morgana pushes him laughingly into his room where he takes three times as long to put on the Grinch and little Cindy Lou Who combination than it should.

“I feel utterly ridiculous,” he complains when he finally steps into the living room. Gwen jumps up and down in rapture when she sees him. “You look darling, Arthur!” she exclaims. She’s wearing a Santa gown with reindeer slippers that look as though they’d be difficult to walk in without tripping.

“Then my mission is complete,” Arthur deadpans, quickly choosing a bean bag rather than sitting on the awful red couch. Merlin appears from out of the bathroom in a ludicrous pair of white long johns with a snowman’s face on the front. “Oh, good. Now I don’t feel so stupid,” Arthur says.

“Glad I could make you feel more like a man, Cindy Lou,” Merlin replies flippantly, taking the bean bag beside him. Gwaine emerges from the bathroom wearing only a pair of Christmas boxers, (“This is how I sleep!”) and Gwen makes him put on Lance’s red T-shirt in the name of decency. Morgana’s gown is red and white with sugar plums embroidered around the collar. Lance and Leon appear in matching Frosty pyjamas they picked up at Tesco. Will wears flamboyant pink long johns with a pink Santa hat to match and a little square on the bum that drops open when unbuttoned. He gestures to it with a wink at Merlin. “Total access.”

“Oh, my, Will. Aren’t you out and proud!” Hunith approves. “You know, I always rather hoped you and my Merlin would get together.”

“Mum!” Merlin groans.

Hunith starts to sit on the couch, but Merlin pulls her down onto the third bean bag, letting Gwen and Lance ruin their backs on Gwen’s jumble sale purchase.

Gwen’s brought in a plate of pretzels covered in white chocolate and has the TV on when there’s a knock on the door, and Will runs to yank it open, yelling, “Merry Christmas!” into the visitor’s face.

“Yes, quite.” The man at the door stands rigidly holding a suitcase. “I’m looking for Arthur Pendragon…I must have the wrong flat.” He turns to leave.

Arthur and Morgana share a panicked look before they are both on their feet and at the door. “Father! Come in,” Arthur says, pulling a stunned Uther off the porch. “I didn’t know to expect you tonight.”

Morgana kisses him on the cheek and takes his coat as Uther stares at his son’s clothing.

“I should’ve recognized your father,” Will tells Arthur in a low tone. “He looks like he has the same size stick up his ass as you do.”

“Five minutes to Rudolph!” Gwen cries out. “I’ll get the popcorn! Arthur, please stop scowling, would you? This is a holiday.”

Hunith rises from the floor and comes to shake Uther’s hand. “What a lovely son and niece you have,” she says after introducing herself. Uther smiles at her, pointedly avoiding looking at her flannel nightgown.

“Lovely to meet you, Mrs. –Emrys, you said?”

“Call me Hunith, please, Mr. Pendragon.”

“Only if you return the favor and call me Uther,” he says smoothly.

Arthur, Morgana, and Merlin make gagging faces behind their backs.

“Uther, we are about to have a pyjama party,” Hunith tells him just as Uther seems about to comment on his son’s attire. “Would you like to go change into yours? Rudolph will be on shortly.”

Arthur puts a hand on Uther’s arm. “You don’t have to, Father…”

“But of course I will!” Uther pushes him aside. He picks up his bag and disappears into the bathroom, leaving Arthur and Morgana staring open-mouthed after him.

“Do you think he’s been drinking on the plane?” Morgana asks Arthur.

“Must have,” Arthur tells her.

“Everyone quiet!” Gwen commands, turning up the television and giggling ridiculously at Burl Ives as a snowman. “I love this part!”

Everyone is settled, with Gwen irritatedly shushing Gwaine and Merlin, who have started wrestling on the floor, when Uther appears in his expensive red silk pajamas. He sedately walks across the room, and all horse-play comes to an end. He takes a seat on the couch, wincing slightly when his rear hits the springs.

“Your father’s _adorable_!” Gwen leans over Lance and gushes into Arthur’s ear.

Arthur has never in his life heard that word applied to his father. He looks nervously over to where Uther’s sharing popcorn with Hunith. “Oh, my God,” he whispers. He feels a hand on his knee and looks over at Merlin.

“Just enjoy it,” Merlin whispers with a wink, and Arthur suddenly wants to kiss him. He knows he didn’t say this aloud, yet Merlin’s face goes all soft, and his eyes shift to rest on Arthur’s mouth a second or two before skittering off across the room to the TV screen.

“Why in the world is the deer’s nose so _big_ , not to mention _red_ and _glowing_?” Uther asks incredulously a few minutes later. “Are they living near some nuclear plant?”

Hunith laughs outright, and Arthur turns to look. No one ever laughs at Uther Pendragon. But Uther seems almost pleased, and my God, is that a _blush_ on his arrogant face? Arthur feels as though he’s fallen into an especially eerie episode of _The Twilight Zone._ He hunches back down onto his giant bean bag and tries to watch the show. He must admit that his Whoville pajamas are soft and very comfortable, and sitting here with his friends and his father so close to Christmas gives him a warm and fuzzy feeling inside that he isn’t quite used to. As if reading his mind, Merlin leans in and says, “And the Grinch’s heart grew three sizes that day…”

Arthur smacks Merlin on the arm, yet can’t help but smile, and Merlin smiles back, his face so close, Arthur could easily pull him down for a kiss. And _God_ , he wants to, so _much_!  Merlin’s eyes are so blue, and his lips so…

Of course, Gwaine chooses that moment to pull Merlin into another playful wrestling match. Arthur wants to rip the man’s beard out one whisker at a time. But then he realizes he should be grateful, for what if he had kissed Merlin there in front of God and, more importantly, _his father_? After they settle down again, Merlin’s bare feet brush Arthur’s, and Arthur stops breathing for a moment before sliding his own against Merlin’s, his eyes glued to Rudolph and Santa on the screen. Christ, he hates this stupid cartoon. He wonders if Merlin is flirting with him. He glances at Gwaine out of the corner of his eye, but he’s concentrating on his popcorn. Arthur can’t say he pays any attention to the show as he and Merlin play footsie under partial cover of a bean bag, and too soon it’s over.

“Well, that was very…festive,” Uther remarks. “I can’t say I’ve ever done that before.”

“You’ve never watched Rudolph?” Hunith asks, surprised. “Why, Uther, you’ve really missed out!” She pats his hand. “What sort of Christmas traditions did you have growing up?”  
  
Uther considers, and Arthur imagines he’s going to say something to the tune of “sitting by the fire eating gruel” but instead he gives them a scene out of a Dickens novel--well, a _different_ Dickens novel. “Well, we would gather by the tree on Christmas Eve and my uncle, Merek, would read from the bible _._ Mum played the organ while we all sang. She always made this wonderful punch…”

Arthur’s mouth drops open. He’s never heard any of this before! He catches Merlin watching him and snaps his mouth closed, realizing how stupid he must look. Who would be so clueless about their own father’s past?

“What lovely Christmases you must have had!” Hunith tells Uther when he finishes describing the huge dinners Arthur has never heard about before. She pats him on the knee. Arthur hasn’t seen his father so happy since small children were banned from his favourite restaurant. Turning to the group on the floor, Hunith says, “How about I make a batch of my special Christmas fudge? I told Merlin to get the ingredients…you did, didn’t you, love?” She looks to her son.

“Of course, Mum. I wouldn’t miss your fudge for the world.” Merlin stands up, and Arthur feels the loss of his soft feet against his.

“Oh, it’s snowing!” Gwen exclaims, looking out the window. “How perfect!”

“Yes, let’s all join hands and sing _Fah Who For-aye_ , why don't we?” Arthur says.

“Oh, shut up, Arthur!” Gwen admonishes. “You are being such a Scrooge.”

“Grinch.” Arthur points to his shirt. “Let’s keep with the same Christmas show, shall we?”

Merlin’s donned an apron and is helping his mother in the kitchen. Arthur thinks he looks rather sexy, even with the ridiculous pyjamas. He looks away, focusing his attention on Gwaine. Moving to sit beside him on the floor, Arthur pins him with a glare.

“So, how long have you and Merlin been together?”

“Together?” Gwaine asks, scratching his stomach under the T-shirt. He’s stretches languidly across a bean bag, his ankles crossed.

Arthur merely hardens his stare, and Gwaine says, “We’ve known each other since kindergarten.”

“That’s a long time,” Arthur notes, thinking maybe that’s a factor in Merlin being unwilling to give Gwaine up. “It’s the people we have around us the longest that are the easiest to take advantage of.”

Gwaine gives Arthur a funny look. “I suppose.”

“And sometimes our feelings get muddled by the comfort and ease of long association.”

“Ooo-kaay, you been watching a lot of Dr. Phil, have you?”

Arthur frowns, annoyed that Gwaine refuses to take him seriously, and looks away, focusing on his father, who is suddenly very focused on him.

“Son, come tell me about your classes,” Uther orders. Reluctantly, Arthur gets up and moves to sit by his father on couch. “Can’t you afford a better set of furniture?” Uther asks him, shifting uncomfortably. “There has been a spring in my arse for the last half hour.” Before Arthur can answer, though, he begins the interrogation.

~~O~~

Merlin realizes he’s humming a Christmas carol when his mother smiles at him. “Happy?” she asks.

“Yeah, I mean, things are going well,” Merlin tells her.

“You look smitten,” Hunith notes, melting butter in the microwave oven.

“Smitten? Who says that anymore, Mum? Good grief.” Merlin rolls his eyes and continues stirring the fudge. “Are we going to add marshmallows?”

“Yes, and don’t try to change the subject, Merlin,” Hunith says. “I can tell you like Arthur.”

Merlin looks at her incredulously. _How does she do it?_

“Of course I like him, Mum…”

“Mer—lin…”

Merlin shrugs. “I haven’t worked out my feelings yet,” he admits.

“Would it help if I told you he watches you all the time?” Hunith asks, a sly smile about her mouth that no mother should be seen wearing, particularly when talking to her gay son.

“He’s straight, Mum. I think.” Merlin still hasn’t worked that out yet. He doesn’t entirely trust Elena’s gaydar.

“Maybe to the world,” Hunith says. “Merlin, you don’t realize how it is for most gay men. An accepting parent like me is not the norm. You’ve been lucky.”

Merlin is suddenly filled with warmth and love for his mother. Putting down the bowl and spoon, he gives her a hug. “I know, Mum. But I’m not sure you’re right about Arthur,” he says into her ear.

“I don’t imagine his father is easy to live with,” Hunith tells him, taking the bowl and pouring the marshmallows in.

“I’ve gotten that impression, too,” Merlin admits, looking out into the living room where Uther is ruthlessly questioning his son.

“Is the fudge ready?” Gwaine asks, walking in and giving Hunith a kiss on the cheek. He tries to dip his finger into the mixture, but Hunith pulls it away.

“It will be soon,” Hunith says. She continues preparations, her back to them as she guards the contents of the bowl. Merlin turns to Gwaine.

“What?” he says, because Gwaine has an odd look on his face.

“Arthur has been giving me relationship advice,” Gwaine tells him in a low voice.

Merlin looks back into the living room. “Really? Like what?”

Gwaine shrugs. “I don’t even know. He asked how long you and I have known each other, then talked about comfort and ease in a relationship. It was weird.”

“He’s been under a lot of stress,” Merlin says. “Plus he seems to find it hard to make friends.”

“If he talks to them like that, I’m sure it is,” Gwaine retorts. “And why are you always defending him?”

Merlin is surprised at that comment. “I’m not! What are you talking about?”

“Why don’t you just get it over with and kiss him? You’ve got a perfect excuse,” He points to the mistletoe hanging over the door frame.

“Gwaine, the man is straight. Probably.”

“And where did you get that idea, anyway? I’ve never seen him with a bird, have you?”

“Yeah. Elena.”

“She doesn’t count, since you threw her at him. But while we’re on that subject, he certainly didn’t seem very interested in her or her big tits.”

“Gwaine!” Hunith admonishes, and they both jump, having forgotten that Hunith was there.

Merlin decides to talk to Morgana and see if he can settle this matter once and for all. He finds her in her bedroom with Gwen, listening to music.

“Is the fudge ready?” Gwen asks hopefully.

“Er, almost. But Mum could use some help from someone who knows how to cook better than I do,” Merlin says, and Gwen is off like a shot.

“Morgana, can I talk to you?” Merlin closes the door.

Morgana gracefully moves into a seated position on her bed. “What is it, Merlin?”

Merlin sits beside her. “Well, um…I don’t know how to ask this, so I’ll just say it straight out. Is Arthur gay?”

Morgana’s expression doesn’t change. If she’s surprised at the question, she certainly doesn’t show it. She waits so long to answer, that Merlin becomes nervous. Finally, she says, “Why do you ask, Merlin?”

He wonders if that means yes, and his heart speeds up. Could all the feelings he’s been getting—the sort of flirting when Arthur’s feet entangled with his, the glances and rare smiles, the banter—really be signals of invitation from Arthur? His palms get damp just thinking about it. He bites his lip. It’s embarrassing, but he decides to be forthright with Morgana. “I—I fancy him, that’s all. I thought he was straight, but now I’m not so sure. After their date Elena said he’s definitely gay, but she could be wrong—maybe she’s just not his type.”

Morgana’s face twitches. He thinks it does, anyway.

Merlin shrugs. “But then again sometimes I wonder if he’s, like, he probably isn’t, but sometimes it seems as though he’s, well, flirting with me.”

Morgana suddenly smiles a wide, beautiful smile. Merlin waits, trying not to fidget.

“Arthur’s secrets are not mine to tell, Merlin,” she finally says.

“Oh. I see. Sorry?”

“That’s perfectly all right,” Morgana covers his hand with hers.

Merlin stands, wondering if he got his answer, and if so, what the hell it was.

Before he leaves, Morgana stops him.

“Oh, and Merlin? I’m happy that you fancy my cousin.”

“Right, okay. Well, see you in a bit. Fudge is almost ready.” He leaves the room, still pretty much in the dark.

In the living room, Gwen is dragging Lance to the window to look at the snow. “Look how it’s coming down!” she enthuses.

“Perhaps I should call a cab to the hotel now,” Uther stands rather stiffly. Merlin thinks this has less to do with his being posh and more to do with the uncomfortable couch. His eyes move to Arthur, who looks subdued. He finds himself wanting to kiss that look of hurt right off his face. He takes a step forward, and Arthur meets his eyes. They stare at one another. _Is this what they call eye sex?_ Merlin wonders, tingling all over.

“Oh, you can’t go out in this mess!” Hunith protests to Uther, carrying a plate of fudge into the room. “I’m staying here. You should, too.”

Uther appears flummoxed. “Here?”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Pendragon,” Lance chimes in. “You shouldn’t go out in this weather.”

“But where will I sleep?” Uther asks, visibly uncomfortable.

“We’ll make room, don’t worry,” Gwen tells him. “There’s always the couch.”

Uther looks almost frightened at the suggestion, and Merlin breaks his gaze with Arthur. “You can have my bed. It’s a double, and very comfortable.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly…”

“Please do, Uther,” Hunith implores. “Merlin can sleep with his old mum.”

“There is no one who could possibly fit that description here,” Uther says smoothly, and Merlin sees his mother blush.

“Thank you for the offer, Merlin,” Uther tells him. “But I think your mother should take your bed, if it’s the only larger one available. I can sleep elsewhere.”

Merlin smiles. “That’s kind of you.”

“You can take my bed,” Arthur tells his father. “I’ll sleep out here in the living room.”

“Then it’s settled! But let’s not go to bed yet,” Hunith laughs. “There’s fudge to be eaten, and I believe Gwen said she has a DVD to watch?” She pops a piece of her fudge into Uther’s mouth, and his eyes widen. But he begins to chew and even make appreciative noises.

“Yes! I have _A Christmas Carol_ —the old version with Alastair Sim. And I also have _A Christmas Story. ‘You’ll shoot your eye out!’”_ Gwen squeals and begins lining up the bean bags so they can all prop up on them in a row against the couch.

“Isn’t she amazing?” Lance asks no one in particular before going to help. Will has compiled an enormous ice cream sundae and stuffs a spoonful of it into his mouth.

“If you aren’t careful, William, you’re going to get fat!” Morgana says playfully.

“I’ll have you know, I have brilliant metabolism, second only to Merlin’s,” Will tells her, offering her a spoonful. Morgana wrinkles her nose and backs away.

“I’d rather have my own, thanks, or have you eaten it all, you cow?”

“There’s plenty,” Will tells her through a mouthful of chocolate and whipped cream.

Gwen makes shushing noises as she turns on the DVD, and everyone gets situated. Merlin makes certain he’s next to Arthur again. “Which one first?” he asks Gwen.

“I thought _A Christmas Story_ , if there’s no objection.” She turns out the lights so only the tree and the television illuminate the room.

There are general murmurs of assent, and Gwen smiles and hits _play_ before settling down in the crook of Lance’s arm.

Merlin pulls an afghan off the couch and spreads it over himself, snuggling up into the bean bag. Is it his imagination, or does Arthur scoot closer to him as the movie progresses? His mother and Arthur’s father are talking quietly on the couch behind him—his mother occasionally giggling like a young girl, and it sort of makes Merlin happy and sort of gives him the creeps, equal measure. Slowly he moves his foot under the afghan until it is touching Arthur’s, which has somehow ended up under there, too. He runs his toe along the soft skin on the top of his arch, and hears Arthur’s soft intake of breath.

“That lamp in this movie makes me think of the pair of fish net stockings I used to have, do you remember, Merlin?” Will says from the other side of Arthur, and Merlin hears Uther cough.

“Yeah. You were hideous in them, as I recall,” Merlin says.

“Was not! I always got a lot of attention when I went clubbing in them.”

“Especially since you didn’t shave your legs,” Merlin said, and everyone groaned.

“Hush, I love this part!” Gwen admonishes as they watch the younger kid snort up his mashed potatoes like a pig. A few moments later, she asks if anyone has another blanket. “It’s so cold in here!” she says, but Merlin suspects she really wants to fondle Lance under the covers.

“I have one in our room,” Merlin tells her, and she gets up and disappears, coming back with his khaki throw and something else.

“This is adorable, Merlin!” she says, holding up a stuffed animal. It’s a lizard wearing a leather biker outfit. “Is it yours or Gwaine’s?”

“I got that for Merlin at Build a Bear last year,” Gwaine tells her. “His name’s Rodney. Rod for short.” He gives her a wink.

“Of course,” she says, tossing the lizard to Merlin and spreading the throw over herself and Lance.

“Now who’s ruining the show with all the talk?” Arthur asks irritably, moving away from Merlin and his toy. Just when Merlin has decided that Elena’s right, and he’s right, and Hunith is right—Arthur really is gay and in the closet and just possibly fancies Merlin—Arthur has to go and pull away like he’s suddenly heard Merlin has cooties.

The sound of wheels spinning uselessly in the snow and ice outside attracts the attention of the group, and they gather about the window to see a BMW across the street trying to pull out onto the road.

“They need sand,” Lance says, hand on Arthur’s shoulder as he peers around him.

“Or kitty litter,” Will adds.

“We don’t have either,” Morgana replies. “Why don’t you blokes go push him out?”

They grab their coats, scarves, and hats. Arthur is surprised that his father comes along, even though it may mean getting grease on his London Fog overcoat. He wonders if he is perhaps trying to impress Merlin’s mother, although the notion is frankly ludicrous. They slip and slide down the stairs, then gather around the back of the car and try valiantly to push it out of its parking space while the driver steers. Arthur purposely stays on the other side of the car from Merlin, not wanting to accidentally brush against him. He’s already been reminded of what he can’t have because Merlin for some reason is locked in a dysfunctional relationship with Gwaine, who buys him stuffed animals and gives them phallic names. And what right does Arthur have to judge him, anyway, since obviously his relationship with his father is just as dysfunctional?

Leon loses his footing and ends up face down on the ice, cutting his lip. Uther gets his knees wet when he slips, and Will gives up, deciding to build a snowman on the side of the road with a gigantic, erect penis instead.

Finally, out of sheer force of will and a longing for warmth and fudge, Merlin, Gwaine, Lance, and Arthur manage to send the car on its way with a wave of thanks from the driver, and head back to the flat, a little worse for wear. On impulse, and out of sheer frustration, Merlin makes a snow ball and sends it careening into the back of Arthur’s head. For a moment, he almost can’t believe he did it. And then an incensed Arthur turns and glares at him before slowly constructing several of his own balls of ice and snow and pelting Merlin’s chest with them in quick succession. This signals an all-out snow ball war that finally ends with the ladies on the porch insisting that they come in and get warm with cups of hot cocoa.

“What in the hell does Pendragon have against me, anyway?” Gwaine asks Merlin as they strip off their wet clothes in the bathroom.

“What do you mean?” Merlin asks, drying himself off with a towel.

“Didn’t you notice how into it he got with the ice balls and my head as a target?” Gwaine asks with a wince.

“Well…maybe he’s just competitive.”

“I was trying to run away!”

Merlin laughs and puts on his bathrobe. When he exits the bathroom, Morgana is cooing over Leon’s injury, and Arthur is choking on his hot cocoa as he watches his father being coaxed out of his red silk pyjama pants by a determined Hunith, who crouches at his feet ready to clean up his knees. Merlin is equally freaked out by the sight and immediately turns away.

“That snow man is disgusting,” Gwen says from the window. “Will, you built it directly under the street lamp!”

Will laughs. “That’s right! Why would I want to hide him in the dark?”

“Because it’s disgraceful, perverted, and ….wrong!”

“If you say so. I say it’s art.”

“It’s _snow porn_!”

Gwen turns the movie back on. Arthur takes some pillows off his bed and brings them in, since the bean bags are a little flat. Gwaine comes out of the bathroom and sits as far away from Arthur as possible. Merlin wants to ask Arthur so many questions, but, of course, the prat falls asleep.

                                                                                                ~~~OOO~~~

Merlin wakes up in the middle of the night. The room is quiet—someone has turned off the TV and the lights. Brightness from the moon shining on the snow outside spreads over the carpet, and the Christmas tree in the corner twinkles. Merlin sits up and looks around. Arthur is asleep, his head on the bean bag. Gwaine is curled up on the couch. The door is closed to Lance and Leon’s room and also Gwen and Morgana’s. Merlin gets up and goes to peek in at Will sprawled in his bed and Uther snoring in Arthur’s. He imagines that Elena is sleeping in the trundle in his room while his mother sleeps on his bed. With a sigh, he grabs a comforter out of the hall closet and goes back to the bean bags. He looks at Arthur lying with only a thin throw covering him, and lies down beside him, spreading the comforter over them both. Arthur grunts and rolls over, moving closer to Merlin and snuggling up to him, and Merlin simply melts. Without stopping to think “is he, isn’t he," he places a finger under Arthur’s chin and tilts his face up, placing soft kisses over his cheeks and eyes. He may be overstepping, but he is determined to get what he can out of the moment. With intent, he plants his lips on Arthur’s, running over their smoothness with something akin to worship. Arthur’s eyes flutter open, and Merlin thinks—here it is, the moment when Arthur starts shouting and wakes up the whole house—but he can’t bring himself to care much at the moment, with the warmth of Arthur’s body pressing against him.

But Arthur doesn’t shout. Instead he makes a noise somewhere between a sigh and a moan, and every part of Merlin is suddenly lit from the inside out. He pulls Arthur closer, wrapping his arms around him, feeling Arthur do the same, and—oh, God—Arthur opens his mouth, and he’s kissing Merlin back and Merlin’s losing all control, sweeping his tongue into Arthur’s mouth, tasting him and wanting more. His hand moves between them, sweeping under Arthur’s shirt and zoning in on that tiny nipple ring, tugging at it almost imperceptibly as he continues to ravish Arthur with his lips and tongue.

Arthur lets out a deeper moan, and Merlin swallows it. Arthur is pliable and oh-so-sweet under Merlin’s hands, and Merlin touches every part of him he can reach.

“Merlin,” Arthur whispers into his mouth. “Oh, Merlin.” Merlin moves his mouth to Arthur’s neck and nips and kisses there. He breathes into Arthur’s ear while moving his hand down to cup Arthur’s cock through his pyjama bottoms.

Arthur moans again before biting his lip in an attempt to keep quiet. Merlin moves his hand inside the warmth of Arthur’s pants, getting a little lightheaded when he feels how very hard Arthur is for him. _Guess I don’t have to wonder anymore,_ he thinks with a smile as he expertly moves his hand over Arthur’s velvet skin. Merlin covers Arthur’s mouth again when he feels him bucking into his hand, trying to keep Arthur quiet as his climax nears. He makes a noise himself when he feels Arthur’s hand latch onto him through his own pyjamas, rhythmically rubbing his cock through the soft fabric. Merlin’s eyes roll up in his head a minute before he scoots closer to Arthur, tugging his pants down before doing the same with his own. When their bare cocks slide together, Merlin has to bury his face in Arthur’s neck in order not to cry out. Arthur makes a strangled noise that tells him he’s also trying hard to be quiet. They’re so close, smoothly grinding against one another. Their mouths join again, nipping and licking until Merlin feels himself shattering, Arthur soon following in his arms.

Merlin is lying in a fog when he hears the toilet flush. A second later, Gwaine shoves tissues in his face before climbing back up on the couch and burrowing under his blanket. Merlin hands some to Arthur, who has his eyes closed and is breathing hard, too out of it to wonder where they came from.

They clean themselves up and snuggle down under the comforter, quickly falling asleep.

***

Merlin awakens to the sound of voices in the kitchen. Rising, he sees Hunith, Arthur, and Gwaine sitting at the bar eating. Arthur looks at him so casually when he enters the kitchen, that Merlin knows a moment of panic when he imagines that Arthur is a victim of sexomnia—the act of unknowingly having sex in his sleep. (Elena is a big fan girl and has explained this type of phenomena to Merlin.) This would be just Merlin’s luck-- to have had terrific sex with Arthur that Merlin actually _initiated_ , only to have Arthur not remember it the next morning.

He pours himself a bowl of cold cereal and adds milk before taking a seat beside his mother.

“Did you sleep well, dear?” she asks him. “You look a bit worn out.”

Merlin does his best to keep his eyes on his bowl, not daring to look at either Arthur or Gwaine.

“I slept fine, Mum. Did you?”

“Oh, yes. Thank you for giving up your bed. It’s quite comfortable. Your friend, Elena, slept on the trundle.”

Arthur sits up a little straighter, frowning. “Did you say trundle?”

“Yes…Merlin’s bed belonged to my mother. It has a trundle that slides underneath. It’s what Gwaine sleeps on, you know.”

Arthur’s eyes widen, and he looks at Gwaine.

Gwaine replies, “It was a bitch to attach, too. Merlin and I practically killed ourselves doing it, didn’t we, Merlin?”

Merlin nods, mouth full of cereal. He’s not sure why Arthur looks so odd.

“Do you mean to say you don’t sleep with Merlin?” Arthur asks.

Gwaine laughs. “Naw, mate. I like him and all, but not _that_ much!”

“Gwaine is straight,” Hunith clarifies. “If he wasn’t, I would’ve married him off to Merlin long ago.”

Merlin looks at the ceiling. “Mum. Obviously you don’t know Gwaine very well.”

Gwaine punches Merlin’s arm. “Hey! I’d make a faab-u-lous gay husband!” He flicks his wrist in a disturbingly stereotypical way.

“But I thought…” Arthur starts to say something but leaves off. He looks at Merlin. “Merlin, would you mind stepping out onto the back porch with me a moment?”

Merlin frowns, but sets his spoon down and complies. It is freezing outside, and Merlin tries to find a piece of flooring that doesn’t have any snow on it, because he’s barefooted.

“Make whatever it is fast, Arthur,” he says, hopping from one foot to the other.

Arthur plants his hands on Merlin’s shoulders to still him. “Merlin, aren’t you and Gwaine a couple?”

Merlin stares at him. “No! What gave you that idea?”

Arthur looks off to the side, his brow furrowed. “I heard the two of you…the day I moved in. You were…” he looks back at Merlin, “having sex.”

“No we weren’t!” Merlin laughs. “That’s impossible, mostly because Gwaine’s straight, but also because I’m not particularly attracted to him. He’s my best mate since…forever!”

Arthur’s mouth has fallen open, and Merlin really wants to kiss it, only he’s freezing and wants to go back inside just a little more.

“But I heard you! You were telling him to—put his back into it, and you both sounded all out of breath.”

Merlin thinks hard, trying to remember the day Arthur moved in. “Oh!” It suddenly dawns on him. “Arthur, we weren’t having sex!” He begins to laugh. “We were putting the trundle together! Oh, my God! _Ew_!”

Arthur lets go of his shoulders and steps back. “You mean…all this time and you two really aren’t some dysfunctional couple? Gwaine isn’t cheating on you with women right under your nose?”

Merlin forgets how cold he is. “What? No, Arthur! I’m not a door mat, for Christ’s sake. Bloody hell!” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Nice to know what you think of me!” He begins running over every moment Arthur’s observed him with Gwaine and wondering how Arthur may have misconstrued it.

Arthur looks sheepish. “I just had this…idea in my head, and I never thought it might not be true. You are so…touchy-feely with Gwaine. You sleep in the same room, and I’d never seen another bed. And what I heard that first day…”

Merlin looks down, shaking his head. He guesses he can’t really blame Arthur for what he thought, but it irks him just the same. “Let’s go in, yeah? It’s freezing out here.” He turns to go, and Arthur grabs his arm.

“Wait, Merlin, I’m sorry---“

“And I guess you think I’m the kind of guy who cheats on his boyfriend?” Merlin looks Arthur in the eyes, everything that happened the night before rising up between them, threatening to melt the snow that covers the deck.

“Well, I—considering the way he treats you…the way _I thought_ he treated you…” Arthur appears at a loss.

Merlin looks sadly at him before going in.

Arthur feels like a jerk. How could he have gotten things so wrong? He looks about him at the snow-covered railing and farther away at the buildings and the people sledding on the hill beyond. He’s only in a white T-shirt and thin pyjama pants, and he shivers suddenly just before Merlin’s mother sticks her head out and tells him to get inside before he catches his death.

Blinking, Arthur obeys, closing the door behind him. Merlin is nowhere to be seen, but Arthur’s father has joined the group and is spreading marmalade on a piece of toast.

“What were you doing out in the freezing cold?” Uther asks him.

“Just…nothing, really. Needed some air,” Arthur says, heading for his room. Will sits on his bed talking on his mobile. Arthur sees that his father has neatly made up Arthur’s bed with Army-like precision. Arthur rummages in his closet for clothes.

“What’s wrong?” Will asks when he’s finished his conversation and flipped his phone closed. Arthur undresses, completely oblivious to Will’s unwavering gaze.

“Nothing,” Arthur mumbles, drawing on a clean pair of briefs.

“You know,” Will says after a moment of watching Arthur, “for a straight guy, you sure are comfortable being undressed in front of a blatantly gay guy.”

Arthur looks at him and shrugs. “Maybe I’m not as straight as you think,” he says.

Will claps his hands together once. “I knew it! So you’re coming out of the closet, then?”

Arthur looks toward the door and motions for Will to be quiet. “Shut up, will you? My father doesn’t know!”

“Is he the one you hate to tell the most? Because I can tell you from experience that he’s the one who should hear it first; because after that, everyone else will seem like a piece of cake.” Will crosses his ankles on the bed.

“He’ll hate me,” Arthur says miserably, drawing his navy long-sleeved shirt over his head and buttoning his jeans.

“Maybe,” Will says evenly. “But maybe not. Arthur, you’re never going to be happy until you accept yourself as you are.”

“I have!” Arthur takes a seat on the edge of his bed. “I’ve come to terms with it. I even…fancy someone.”

“Merlin.”

Arthur jerks his head up. “How’d you know?”

“Obvious, mate.”

“I think I messed it up, though,” Arthur says, playing with the gold ring on his index finger. “I misjudged him, and he looked at me like he was so disappointed.”

“Aw, he’ll get over it. Believe me…I’ve known Merlin a long time. He doesn’t hold a grudge. Just do something nice for him, and he’ll be all over you like a puppy. He’s a real sap. Now all you’ve got to do is get your balls straight and tell the old man you’re a poof.”

Arthur can’t help but laugh. “Is that all?”

“Come on! You can do it!”

There’s a knock at the door, and Arthur calls for whoever it is to come in. His father stands there, looking as stiff and remote as ever. Arthur wonders if he dreamed the night before with Uther in his red p.j.’s eating fudge.

“I think I’ll head over to the hotel now, Arthur,” Uther tells him. “The roads are clear. I’d like you and Morgana to have dinner with me there tonight. My flight leaves after our dinner tomorrow.”

“All right, Father, but,” Arthur glances briefly at Will. “I’d like to meet you for drinks first—before Morgana joins us.”

Uther looks curious, but he agrees and takes his bag out of Arthur’s closet.

As soon as his father is gone, Arthur swallows and stares at the floor, thinking about what he's just set in motion. His stomach tightens and his head goes a bit numb. Clutching his chest because it suddenly feels like a huge weight has fallen upon it, he curls up on the bed and breathes as though through a straw.

“Take it easy, mate,” Will gets up and comes to sit beside Arthur, rubbing Arthur's back. “Everything’s going to be fine; you’ll see.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Lance asks from the doorway.

“Just having a bit of a crises, that’s all.”

Lance comes in and sits on Will’s bed. “Anything I can do?”

“I kind of doubt it,” Will answers, continuing to rub circles. Arthur has his eyes squeezed shut and looks as if he wants to disappear.

“Oh—God, oh God,” he mutters between shallow breaths.

“After tonight you’ll feel loads better; I promise,” Will says in a voice that reminds Arthur of his long-dead mother. He begins to laugh—he’s being comforted by a queen that reminds him of his mum! His stomach hurts as he doubles up laughing, and he still can't breathe properly. He thinks he might faint, but he can't stop the laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Gwaine asks from the door. Soon he’s joined by Gwen, who rushes to get Morgana.

Morgana pushes her way into the room, knocking Will onto his bum to get to her cousin. “Arthur, sweetheart, what’s the matter?” She smooths back his fringe.

Arthur opens his eyes, tears spilling from them. “Will’s a queen who sounds like Mummy!” He tells her breathlessly.

Alarm shows in Morgana's eyes as she turns to Lance. “Get him some water.” Lance disappears in a flash. It seems the entire flat has gathered in Arthur’s room, staring at him in curiosity. Merlin is the last to come out of his room and notice something’s amiss.

“What’s going on?” he asks Gwen.

“Arthur’s having some sort of episode,” she tells him, standing back to allow Lance in with the glass of water.

“Arthur,” Morgana soothes, “tell me what’s wrong.”

Arthur continues to breathe shallowly. He's taken up his pillow and clutches it to his chest. “We’re having dinner with Father at his hotel tonight,” he tells her.

“O-kaay. Not my idea of a fun time, but not the end of the world, either.” She strokes Arthur's arm.

“I’m—I’m going to meet him first. For drinks. And…and…” He begins to fight for breath in earnest, and Morgana shouts for a paper bag.

Hunith comes in with one, and Morgana moves aside as Hunith presses it to Arthur’s mouth. “Take deep breaths, luv, there you go. It’s all right, just calm down. Nothing’s as bad as all that.”

Arthur begins to settle and breathe easier as Hunith strokes his head and continues to hold the bag to his mouth. “Everyone out and give him some breathing room,” Hunith orders, and everyone backs out the door, even Morgana, although she hesitates the longest.

Merlin finds himself with the door shut in his face. He turns to Morgana. “What’s wrong with him?” he asks, his voice trembling a little. His chest started hurting the moment he saw Arthur lying on the bed struggling to breathe and looking like he’d witnessed something horrible. Surely this couldn’t be because Merlin was angry with him out on the balcony, he tells himself. Merlin was going to forgive him…he just needed some time to process. “Morgana!”

Morgana holds her hands out. “I’m not sure. He’s having some sort of panic attack, but I have no idea why.” She turns to Lance. “You were in there—what was going on?”

“I don’t know,” Lance answers. “Will was with him.” They all look to Will.

“Well, I’m certainly not going to out him to everyone—oops!” Will clamps his hand over his mouth.

Morgana shakes her head. “You arse.”

“Sorry!” Will squeaks. “He’s upset. He’s going to tell his father tonight.”

“Tell him what?” Lance asks, still confused.

“That he’s gay, idiot,” Gwaine smacks the back of Lance's head.

“Arthur’s gay?” Leon asks. “Since when?”

“Since forever, of course!” Gwen rolls her eyes. “At least, I assume so…you don’t just become gay!”

Merlin feels dizzy. Arthur plans to come out to his father? Arthur told Will he’s gay? _What the fuck is going on?_

Everyone’s talking at once, and after a moment Hunith comes out of the room, shutting the door behind her. She scoots them all farther into the living room. “Everything’s fine. He’s sleeping. Leave him be.” She shoots a look to Merlin, who has already got his hand on the door knob. He steps back.

“We have a dinner to plan for tomorrow night, don’t we?”

Morgana tells her about the plan to get take-out from the restaurant.

“Nonsense!” Hunith admonishes. “Half of the fun of the holidays is cooking! Call and cancel that order, Morgana, and let’s start on a grocery list.”

Gwen squeals enthusiastically and grabs some paper and a pen. Morgana gets her mobile and the planning begins.

                                                                                                ~~~~~OOOO~~~~

Arthur awakens hours later to a text from Merlin.

You okay?

He pulls himself off the bed and opens the bedroom door, happy to see the flat appears empty. He walks out to find Merlin in the kitchen covered in flour—even his hair.

“How long have I slept?” Arthur asks, blinking. “You’ve aged forty years!”

Merlin laughs. “Mum says we can’t order in dinner for tomorrow, so she’s got me making pies. They’ve gone out for more supplies, although I think Lance and Gwen are on a date.”

Arthur takes a seat at the bar, looking shell-shocked. “Why can’t we order in?”

“It’s against holiday laws, apparently.” Merlin looks at Arthur and reminds him, “You didn’t answer my question. Are you okay?”

Arthur nods slowly. “I’ll be better after dinner tonight.”

Merlin sits down beside him. “What do you think he’s going to say?”

Arthur turns, surprised. “You know?”

“Well, after our make-out session last night, I should have a good idea,” Merlin says.

“Not that, _Mer_ lin, I mean that I’m going to tell my father tonight.”

“Oh, yeah.” He gives Arthur an apologetic look. “Will pretty much outed you to everyone. Not on purpose, though.”

Arthur sighs. “Great. Exactly how do you out someone by accident?”

“Well, he—“

“Never mind. I don’t want to know.” Arthur rubs his hand over his face. “God, I dread this.”

Merlin puts a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “You’ve got to believe it’s going to be fine, Arthur. Things may not go as badly as you think.”

~~O~~

 

Things went worse than Arthur thought. His father caused a scene in the hotel bar, calling Arthur all sorts of names and threatening to disinherit him. Arthur went all-out and told Uther he didn’t want to work in his business anyway, and as he’d suspected he would, Uther told him he would no longer finance his studies at university. Arthur returned to the flat broken and depressed.

As though she’d realized he’d need the solitude and quiet, Hunith had made sure that everyone had plans that night except for herself and Merlin.

“Was it that bad?” Merlin asks, taking one look at Arthur and leading him to a chair. Arthur somehow registers that the chair is not the horribly uncomfortable one that Gwen bought, but something with _stuffing_ in it. He gives Merlin a questioning look, and Merlin explains, “Mum picked us up a few things today. She said we needed more chairs.” Merlin perches on the arm of the chair, turning his body toward Arthur.

Arthur notices there are pillows on the horrid red sofa. Big, soft ones. “Good,” he says, his voice neutral. “You’re lucky, Merlin. To have a mother like her.” His face crumples then, and Merlin pulls him close, cradling him against his chest. “Shh, it’s all right. I’m here.” He cards his fingers through Arthur’s soft hair until he quiets and begins to tell him all that happened with his father.

“That’s terrible—that he treated you that way,” Merlin says, wanting to cry himself. “But Arthur, you did the right thing. You’re an adult, and you don’t need to pretend to be something you’re not just to please your father.”

“I’ll have to quit university,” Arthur says, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands.

“No, there are ways to get help. I should know—I’ve got every grant out there, I think. Plus there’s financial aid. We’ll go to the office together as soon as they open after the holidays.”

Arthur looks up at him. “You’re a good friend, Merlin.”

Merlin smiles. “Just a friend?” He leans down and kisses Arthur on the mouth. Arthur responds, and they’re still making out when Hunith comes in from the bedroom. “Oh! Sorry, lads,” she turns to go.

Arthur stops her. “Hunith, wait…” He stands up. “Thank you for your help. You’ve been very kind to me.”

Merlin stands behind him, encircling Arthur’s waist with his arm and resting his chin on Arthur’s shoulder.

“You’re very welcome, Arthur.” She smiles. “I think you’ll be good for my son. And I was only kidding about wanting Gwaine for a son-in-law. I’m not stupid.” With a wink, she turns and disappears back into the bedroom. A moment later and the first strains of _Phantom of the Opera_ playloudly behind her door.

Merlin turns Arthur around and kisses him again, deeper this time, and Arthur pulls him closer, thinking how good he feels in his arms. For a moment it makes up for the hour he just spent getting yelled at by his irate father.

“Mum seems to want to give us some time alone,” Merlin smiles coyly, taking Arthur by the hand and leading him into Arthur’s bedroom. He shuts the door with his foot. Arthur stands uncertainly by the bed.

“Merlin, I’ve wanted you for so long,” he says hoarsely, and that’s all Merlin needs to hear. He kisses him long and hard, threading his fingers into Arthur’s hair. Toppling over onto the bed, they grapple with one another’s clothing until they are just bare skin pressing together, their mouths working over one another’s bodies. Merlin laps at Arthur’s nipple ring with his tongue, flicking and sucking on it gently until Arthur is reduced to a sobbing mass of groaning and begging.

“Merlin…please…”

Overwhelmed by desire, Merlin lowers his head and takes Arthur into his mouth, sucking and licking until Arthur cries out, spilling into Merlin’s mouth.

Arthur breathes hard, staring at the ceiling while Merlin crawls up and nuzzles his neck for a while. After a time, Arthur moves, flipping Merlin so that he’s on his back. “ _Mer_ lin, _Mer_ lin, …want to taste you so badly…” he murmurs before licking a strip down Merlin’s torso and pulling as much of Merlin’s cock as he can into his mouth.

“Oh! Oh, shit, Arthur! Shit!” Merlin arches off the bed, grabbing the sheets with his fists and crying out as his climax explodes and washes over him. Arthur gags a little but swallows it all before crawling up to lie beside Merlin again.

Merlin traces Arthur’s features with his fingers, sinking into a blissful, post-coital haze. “There’s so much more I want to do with you,” he says. “I really can’t believe you fancy me at all. I’m not exactly your type.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Arthur asks, pushing his pillow up under his head and throwing his leg over Merlin.

Merlin smiles and runs his fingers down Arthur’s thigh. “Just that you’re a posh git, and I’m not.”

Arthur nudges Merlin with his forehead. “You’re an idiot, that’s what you are. A beautiful, smart, funny, sexy, idiot.”

They fall asleep wrapped around one another.

                                                                                                ~~~OOO~~~

The following day is a busy one with everyone cleaning and cooking for that night’s celebration. Will came home the night before to find Merlin and Arthur completely naked and asleep in his room. He’d immediately backed out and shut the door, hanging a Keep Out If You Know What’s Good For You sign on the knob. Morgana returned from dinner with her uncle looking decidedly grim an angry and went to bed with an icepack on her head, muttering something about ‘stubborn, bigoted arseholes.’

Gwen exits the bathroom with gloves covering her hands. “Gwaine! Have you been using our toilet? Get in here and clean it RIGHT NOW!”

Gwaine appears from the bedroom. “What makes you think it was me?”

Gwen just points, and Gwaine enters the bathroom with a sigh.

The flat fills with wonderful smells of baking. Lance and Leon set up a couple of long tables and cover them with cloths, while Gwen brings in a potted poinsettia and places it in the middle as a centerpiece. She has constructed reindeer napkin holders out of brown pipe cleaners with googley eyes and attached a name to each. Arthur and Merlin can’t stop touching one another and exchanging small, knowing smiles. When Arthur catches Morgana and Leon snogging under the mistletoe, he doesn’t even bother to tease her.

Elena arrives with a casserole, kissing everyone on the cheek. She gives Arthur a searching look before nodding and smiling. “Good-o,” she says before moving on. Gwaine seems particularly glad to see her.

Everyone is just sitting down to eat when there’s a knock at the door. Lance gets up to answer it and returns to the table with Uther in tow. Arthur almost chokes on his drumstick.

“I hope it is all right that I came,” Uther says stiffly. “I’m still invited?”

“Only just,” Morgana says cuttingly, but Hunith moves quickly to make room for Uther at the table.

“Of course you are still invited,” Hunith tells him, gesturing to a seat; however, Arthur notices her voice is not quite as warm as usual. Uther sits and clears his throat. Merlin’s hand covers Arthur’s where it rests on his knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Arthur, I regret some of the things I said yesterday, most particularly about your schooling. Perhaps we can discuss it after dinner.” He watches Hunith fill his wine glass to the brim.

Arthur nods, although he knows he’s going to decline any further financial help from his father. Merlin’s right—there are other ways, and he’s tired of feeling beholden to Uther. He also plans to tell him that he’s dropping all of his business courses for the next semester, and that if he doesn’t like the fact that Arthur’s gay, he can lump it.

A surge of happiness fills him. The fact that his father is there at all tells Arthur that the tide has turned and Arthur now has the upper hand in his relationship with Uther. His father will not disown him. He evidently means something to him. He smiles, meeting Merlin’s eyes.

Merlin winks at him, and they begin to eat.

Later, while strains of “Silent Night” play on the CD player and the tree lights twinkle, Arthur lays on the floor with his head in Merlin’s lap while Merlin runs his fingers through his blond hair. Laughter pours out of the kitchen, where Hunith and Uther sit at the bar talking with Gwen and Lance. Morgana has disappeared somewhere with Leon, and Will and Gwaine have taken off to a bar. Leaning over, Merlin kisses Arthur softly on the lips.

“Happy?” he asks.

Arthur blinks up at him. “I am, rather,” he says, before breaking out into a huge grin and pulling Merlin in for another kiss.

                                                                                ~~OOO~~

A week later, on Christmas Eve, the flat feels a bit empty with Leon, Lance, Gwen, Gwaine, and Will off at their respective parents’ houses. Morgana decides that morning that she is going to volunteer at the soup kitchen. Arthur and Merlin think about going with her, but the evening alone in the flat is too difficult to pass up. Before she leaves, Morgana makes her special version of figgy pudding for them and shares a Christmas toast with champagne.

After it gets dark, Arthur turns on the tree lights and feeds pudding to Merlin as they lounge on the large throw pillows, wrapped up in blankets because their furnace has stopped working properly, and watching _The Grinch Who Stole Christmas._ When some of the pudding ends up on Merlin’s chin, Arthur leans in and licks it off.

“Does it feel weird having a boyfriend?” Merlin asks, laughing as Arthur’s questing tongue goes after another slipping blob of pudding. “You’re purposely missing my mouth, you wanker!”

Arthur smiles. “It feels really _right,_ ” he says, taking a bite of the pudding for himself. Remembering something, he puts the bowl down and gets up, going over to the hall closet and pulling something out. “I forgot all about this. It was delivered yesterday.” He pulls out a large box wrapped in brown mailing paper. He tears the paper off and opens the box with a butter knife. Inside are two expensively wrapped Christmas presents. Merlin and Arthur have agreed not to exchange, due to their current depressed financial situation. “These are from Father,” Arthur says, handing Merlin one of the gifts and taking a seat beside him again.

Merlin puts his ear to his. “I don’t hear ticking,” he notes.

Arthur laughs. “That’s a good sign. Well? Shall we, on the count of three? One…two…three!”

They both rip into their boxes.

Arthur and Merlin share a surprised look-- Uther has gotten them matching pyjamas. The bottoms are black and white plaid flannel, and the tops are black with white lettering. Gingerly, they hold them up.

“What exactly does this mean?” Merlin asks. “Is this…some kind of…er, blessing on our relationship, do you think?”

“I haven’t got the foggiest idea!” Arthur replies in a voice that sounds as dumbfounded as he’s certain he looks at that moment holding up the shirt. It reads: True Love is Wearing Matching PJs.

Merlin shrugs and smiles brightly. “Well, whatever it means, these look nice and warm, and it’s freezing in here. Let’s put them on!” They race to get their clothes off, pause to appreciate being naked together, then are forced by the chill in the air to hurry and pull the pyjamas on. Arthur burrows into the blankets, taking Merlin with him.

Cuddled into a ball, they listen to the citizens of Whoville singing as they watch the tree twinkling in the darkness. Outside, snow on the ground reflects the brightness of the moon. Merlin begins to giggle.

“What?” Arthur asks, and when he doesn’t get an answer, he gives Merlin a little shake. “Tell me!”

“It just seems funny to be here with you, wearing pyjamas that your father’s given us, that’s all,” Merlin chuckles, then screams and bucks when Arthur snakes frigid hands under Merlin’s top.

“You’re such a girl’s frilly, pink blouse, Merlin,” Arthur chuckles into his neck. “Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas, Arthur,” Merlin grins.

 

 

_finis_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have some original m/m stories coming out. If you are interested in ordering, here is my website: http://rjames201581.wix.com/rebecca-james  
> It will be updated as more of my stories are released.


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